A Whisper

There is a movement that does not ask for healing,
but for depth.
Not to repair what is broken,
but to allow life
to move as it does.

With feeling.
Even when it pulls.
Even when it aches.

For a life without pain
is not life,
but numbness.

Birth always asks for opening.
And what opens,
feels.

I come from a time
where feeling was taken away
to make it bearable.
Where women slept
while new life arrived.

I chose differently.
I stayed awake.
I stayed present.
In the intensity
and in the strength.

And now I offer that same presence
to myself.
Where things were once softened,
I remain.
Where something hurts,
I breathe.

Not to suffer,
but to live.

This is not an invitation.
Not a method.
Only a remembrance
that depth is not dangerous.

It is where life begins.