Forward from: The Accidental Poet
When was the last time
someone truly asked
if you were okay,
not because it was routine,
but because they saw the storm
behind your eyes
and were brave enough to wait for the thunder to speak?
When did someone pause long enough
to feel your quiet grief
without needing to fix it,
just allowing it to be
without rushing to “make it better”?
When was the last time
someone held you,
not to fill your space with words,
but to sit in the silence
and let you be
exactly who you are?
someone truly asked
if you were okay,
not because it was routine,
but because they saw the storm
behind your eyes
and were brave enough to wait for the thunder to speak?
When did someone pause long enough
to feel your quiet grief
without needing to fix it,
just allowing it to be
without rushing to “make it better”?
When was the last time
someone held you,
not to fill your space with words,
but to sit in the silence
and let you be
exactly who you are?