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Fear & Offerings

I find it scary to make offerings.

What if I offer myself and you don't take me?

What if I admit that you matter to me

and I hope - maybe believe - I have something you could want or love,

and I don't?

Here I am with many blue stones,

one tall candle, my shiny bits of tin, my blood, this pyramid of grapefruits

my hope for connection, You've given me something - I'm better by you,

and worth,

I have this. I hope it's good enough

to be taken up by something that's as good

as you.

And there you are. Maybe. I don't even always know.

Because I'm standing at the crack in our connection. I'm reaching out across

a gap to lay this down. I see you, maybe distantly, surely partially. I can't know you see me, not for sure, or that you'll want what I have. But here it is.

An offering.

I hope you see my fear and how I am not running.

I hope that something in you finds a way to dip your hand in that, and bring it to your mouth

or in any other way pull nourishment from my cracked

open heart.

I feel grateful to be learning how to offer

and for this community where we can be scared and broken and hopeful and brave

and hold all of that out

to each other, to the bigger and smaller and marvelous everything,



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