Help empowers you, but doesn't carry you.


Your soul splits so far open,

You’re not sure you’re going to be whole again.

Not sure it’s even possible.


We cannot do it alone,

And no one can do it for us.

Do you see? 

Both are true.


You are not helpless,

When you need help.


Learning to ask for help,

Not from a powerless place,

But where you stay on your own feet,

It’s moving,

And it gets you moving.


Maybe help isn’t help

Until we put it into action, 

In how we’re thinking about things,

Or what we’re doing about things.

We have to receive it,

Pick it up,

Make sense of it,

Then make use of it.


Real help,

The kind of help you don’t want to ask for,

At a time when you just want someone, something

To make this all go away,

Is not a laying of your life in another’s hands.


It’s taking such ownership of your own life and path,

You reach out for the support,

The help, the wisdom, the comfort

You need and,

You lean, but are not carried.


It’s a sacred moment.

You are vulnerably real about where you are,

Yet standing in ownership of your life.

You are seen.


Letting someone carry part of your weight while you’re stumbling,

Is hard to do.

And is very important.


So long as you remember,

They can’t do it for you.

And, really,

You don’t need them to,

Though it can feel like you do.


Interestingly this is when the utterly beautiful part of you shows up,

Broken open.

And, really,

Not broken at all.