The Soul’s Garden.

She Who Chose The Cut (The Inward Horn)

there you are
in the desert. a world of lack. you lack money. you lack love. you lack in friendships and you lack in the mirror. oh does it not burn?

i see you walking barefoot in the world of the victim. waiting for a saviour. waiting for mr government. waiting for misses life to just finally help you. why is everything against you?
why. why. why me?

and so the sand blows you deeper into forgetting. deeper into the story that abundance is a language your mouth was never taught to speak. and you repeat it until it sounds like truth.
i am not enough. i do not have enough. i will never have enough.

and my dear, i have met billionaires who live in that same desert. for you see. this, this is the desert of the soul.
and the desert says yes. stay small. stay dry. stay hateful.
yet
look
in your heart. in your hands.
is that a seed?
yes. you say. but nothing grows here. so what am i to do with it?
and i hear you. you have been wronged and oh how much you have hurt. the wounds were real. the loneliness was real.
yet the seed is also real. the quiet knowing that you are enough. the stubborn yes beneath every no the desert ever taught you.
and it is still in your hands.
plant it. i urge you.
how? a part of you begs. how do i plant something where nothing has ever survived?
with love. with the terrifying, irrational, stubborn knowing that you were not put here to dry up and disappear.
the seed has always been yours. your hands were made to plant it.
and this barren desert you call life. look how big it is. look how vast. look how empty.
do you see scarcity?
i see space. i see room for rivers. room for gardens so wild and so green they would make the desert weep.
i see room for your Soul's Garden.
and it begins with one seed. the one already in your hands. the one you almost threw away. the one you almost buried in the sand alongside every other dream you gave up on.
do not give up on this one.
plant it. water it with whatever you have left. your tears if you must.
and watch what grows.
for this desert was never your curse, my dearest.
it was your canvas.
i love you
BV