a call to pause.

in the quiet of the morning,
i pause.

i pause to acknowledge a heaviness once ignored.
a tension gone unnoticed.
born from the weight of wars within
and present in the world around us.

the trials endured.
the moments that stretched us.
the storms weathered.
the resilience embodied.
in the past and present.

i pause to name the joys.
the small mercies, too.
the love.
the light.
the things that remain beautiful
through it all.

to recall where we've been
and recognize how far we've come.
to bear witness to the scars collected
and honor the aches that remain.
reminders that we've lived,
messy and whole.

to remember how we've fallen
and still chosen to get back up again.
to thank the people,
and the parts of ourselves,
that refused to give up.
and persevered,
every step of the way.

the faith.
the hope.
the belief that carried us.
even when we were barely holding on,
held together by a single thread.

to acknowledge the daily choice
we all make to bravely continue forward.
the ways we keep showing up
throughout our day,
no act too small.

to honor the decision that we each make
to write our story
through the pains and joys.
the highs and lows.
pen in hand.

still writing.
still learning.
still feeling.
still growing.

still finding light in moments expected
and in places we never imagined.
making whatever difference we can
with the time we've been given.

perhaps that is enough:
to be here.
to keep going.
to keep becoming.
to keep choosing hope,
even when it feels far away,
especially in moments when it feels far away
or as though it has dissolved entirely.
to keep believing that there is another
spark of light on the other side of the darkness.

choosing to remain.
choosing to believe that
there is still another page to turn.
that there is still another page to be written.