Spider Waltz

Why run from suffering? In the candy store of sorrows

There are all colors and flavors.

I walk through the corridors of pains I know intimately;

I don't mind the holes in the ground, the spiders are my friends.

I even stop and admire their webs:

"How beautiful, are you doing new patterns?"

I don't mind the musty smell, the snakes.

It's the unknown that's scary

because it might hide a bigger pain, or even worse, joy.

And who remembers how to handle joy, anyway?

Joy means climbing on the roof and taking a fall.

I'll stay with my spiders, thank you.

But there's always a tiny voice at the back of my head,

the nape of my neck,

the beating veins in my wrists,

whispering: "It's not too late.

You are more than salvageable—

you are loved, you are important.

You're gifted, and you're loved."

Who are you, and how can I bring you closer?

-------------------------------------💜-------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! If you liked this poem, your claps and comments will make me so happy 💜

You'll also enjoy: