There is a lot.

There is a lot in this world intended to harm us.

and at moments

(whether uncontrolled (like weather))

we must allow (against better judgement) the waves to crash into us.

Salt water will fill your lungs (sponges for sorrow)

And you won't breathe.

You won't.

You'll only sputter and gargle.

The rag doll pull of your body at the whims of a greater sea.

(You see) we are designed to endure.

Fall to our knees in grace and push for more.

Look at the roots (like smoke wisps)

This is the collapsing and crushing

the squeezing and crunching of your bones.

They overtake the good in your eyes and block out the sun.

but be not undone (for you were meant to endure).

Look at the blood spilt (in the background).

a messy spread of dried plum purples.

the deep, unclean blues of your veins.

and the painted orange of sunsets.

All of this is blood.

There is a lot in this world that we must face.

(When the waters come up to your throat,

struggle to stay a float

When the roots threaten to become your bones

and the moans of your blood cry out (please stop)

There is a lot in this world and I wish you the best.

I do not want you to be harmed by the chaos of it all.

I promise we were meant to endure.

I promise.

I promise.

I promise.

Photo by Vinnie Bailey.  Words by Jordan Lane Shappell