A Secret Place

2026-01-01

A poem about the storm of longing — and the slow, tender discovery that the love you've been reaching for was always already yours.

So much tossing and turning and yearning and burning. Searching for something, the calm inside the storm.

Clawing and crying and dreaming and believing. I want to shed this form.

It's me. I have been looking for me.

Not another lover, warm under the bed sheets. Not some fleeting, heart half-beating romance.

No, it's me. It's always been me.

What if love exists right here? Right now. Loudly. What if it has been here all along… in my bones, my laugh, my freckled shoulders, Emanating proudly?

What if this love is in the trees? In the soft and crumbly soil beneath my feet? What if it lives in the places we cannot see?

What if… What if it's inside of you. What if it endures in me?