TO HOLD WHAT’S REAL

We mirror what is real

because we do not know how to turn away.

In a world that moves quickly past feeling,

that names instead of listens,

that explains instead of touching,

this way of seeing can feel heavy.

Not because it wounds us —

but because it is honest.

We feel what is present.

We notice what is missing.

We sense the quiet places

where empathy lives.

Not a burden.

a knowing.

Still, we are learning

that mirrors are not meant to carry weight.

They reflect.

They return things to their source.

We are not here to hold the world’s ache,

only to witness it

without becoming it.

So when tenderness rises,

let it move through us

like light through glass —

clear,

unbroken,

free.

We choose carefully

where our softness rests.

Not every room is a sanctuary.

Not every hand knows how to receive.

Not in closing our hearts.

But honoring them.

We remain real

in a world that forgets how.

And when it feels lonely,

we remember:

Truth does not belong to us.

It passes through,

uses our breath,

and returns to itself.