I am preparing for something. I’m losing my angles. Softening for something. Motherhood perhaps. My friends never told me about the softening beforehand. Or maybe they didn’t need it, they didn’t have the sharp bits that could inflict harm. But I don’t care about what happened to them right now, for I am blinkered from the world, immersed in the landscape of myself as it rolls and surges.
I feel as though I am cocooned in God Herself and She takes me on fantastical adventures every night. I shape-shift in my dreams. I’m getting ready, getting prepared, sloughing off the dead bits and fertilizing the good stuff. And when I wake and feel the blanket of Her arms release me into my day, there’s always a remnant of Her left behind; Her smell on my skin, or the sound of Her love in my blood. Perhaps this is Her work; my changing landscape. I’m glad that with it She brings me gratitude, for without it I would mourn the loss of my hardness’s. My corners are diminishing, but my heart is full.