People I love are hurting, and they are hurting each other.
I want to go to them. I want to tell them how to fix things. It seems so simple on the outside. Well, not simple, but possible. It seems possible. But I am not living their lives. I am sure there are times when people look at me, and think how possible it would be to fix things. Things that are really much more complicated than they know.
I need to remember that. That the looking in is not nearly as clear as it seems.
Even though it does seem clear. I feel like I could spend a day and set things right. It wouldn't remove the hurt, but it would make space for healing. Healing is what I want so badly for these people I love.
I know the truth about certain kinds of healing - the person who is hurt has to want it. And this is that kind of healing. No matter how much I want it for them, it won't happen until they want it for themselves. (I am sure there are people who have thought that about me, too.)
So I sit in this place and write. Half finished sentences. Names redacted. Hearts protected on both sides. And I pray. For hope. For healing. For possibilities. Because I believe those things are real. More real than the strongest steel or the sharpest sword. More real than the blanket wrapped around me. They are the stuff of souls; the things that live with us forever.
Hope. Healing. Possibilities.
And at the very least - kindness.
That is what I wish for the people I love, and it is what I wish for all of you.