The Way In
For some time now I have been trying to fit myself through a door that was too small. I might poke a toe through, or an elbow maybe. All I wanted was to be helpful, a good team player, but that door was not cut for the likes of me and frankly, all my efforts were kind of freaking people out. So I stopped. I lay myself down on the quiet ground outside. And as I slept there, I bloomed into a wild garden, petals opening to the sky. And the perfume of my blooming slipped through all the windows and doors and into conversations, opening what was clenched and softening sorrows.
