Some people mistake constant access for intimacy. Love should feel like an open window, not a locked room. This captured the slow erosion of self with painful honesty.
You’ve captured one of the secret sacred joys for me. Benches in parks carefully spaced along trails. Dedicated to people. These benches and so have a special relationship, much of which you describe so eloquently here in your lovely poem. Though yours goes to even further places that I enjoyed venturing with you. You and your one bench. Me and my many. Sacred connections all. Thank you for honoring their significance in our world. They hold such an important space. Beautiful work.
Thank you Brenda. I loved this. I have a bench in my own garden and, over time, it has become far more than somewhere to sit. It feels like a threshold, a quiet door into my inner world. When life becomes noisy, I find myself drawn there. Some days I arrive with questions, some days with laughter, and some days with nothing at all except a weary heart.
I love that your poem captures this so beautifully. It isn't really about a bench, it's about those places, and sometimes those people, that ask nothing from us except that we arrive. In a world where we're so often expected to explain ourselves, improve ourselves or have all the answers, there is something deeply comforting about simply being welcomed.
It also reminded me how often the biggest changes happen without us noticing. We arrive carrying something heavy and, somehow, leave a little lighter. Not because anyone solved our problems, but because we found somewhere safe enough to put them down for a while.
Thank you for this. It felt like sitting quietly on my own bench for a few minutes.
You are most welcome. I so enjoyed writing the poem. And I so agree that the bench is more than a place to sit. It is a sanctuary where we can view life from a different angle. I like what you said. “it feels like a threshold a quiet door into my inner world”. Now that is beautiful. I will cherish that. 🌹
We spend our lives constantly chasing things, often feeling like we aren't "allowed" to rest unless we have something to show for it. But you realize you really do need a "bench" like this—a space where you don't have to talk, don't have to pretend, and where you're fully accepted just for showing up.
Some people mistake constant access for intimacy. Love should feel like an open window, not a locked room. This captured the slow erosion of self with painful honesty.
Thank you for your comment. I agree with you entirely. 🌹
You’ve captured one of the secret sacred joys for me. Benches in parks carefully spaced along trails. Dedicated to people. These benches and so have a special relationship, much of which you describe so eloquently here in your lovely poem. Though yours goes to even further places that I enjoyed venturing with you. You and your one bench. Me and my many. Sacred connections all. Thank you for honoring their significance in our world. They hold such an important space. Beautiful work.
Thank you. Love your comment. Benches… they do coax relationships. 😊💕
I loved your poem. Sorry abotu typos in my comment. I was on the verge of sleep!
Aww , lovely! This reminds me of a book I read recently , highly recommend , “Theo of Golden.” I think you’d enjoy it, if you haven’t already read it!
Very nice! I have an old wooden yard swing in my yard. It is "My Spot."
Oh now I am smiling. Yes! I can imagine that “Spot”. 🌹
Thank you Brenda. I loved this. I have a bench in my own garden and, over time, it has become far more than somewhere to sit. It feels like a threshold, a quiet door into my inner world. When life becomes noisy, I find myself drawn there. Some days I arrive with questions, some days with laughter, and some days with nothing at all except a weary heart.
I love that your poem captures this so beautifully. It isn't really about a bench, it's about those places, and sometimes those people, that ask nothing from us except that we arrive. In a world where we're so often expected to explain ourselves, improve ourselves or have all the answers, there is something deeply comforting about simply being welcomed.
It also reminded me how often the biggest changes happen without us noticing. We arrive carrying something heavy and, somehow, leave a little lighter. Not because anyone solved our problems, but because we found somewhere safe enough to put them down for a while.
Thank you for this. It felt like sitting quietly on my own bench for a few minutes.
You are most welcome. I so enjoyed writing the poem. And I so agree that the bench is more than a place to sit. It is a sanctuary where we can view life from a different angle. I like what you said. “it feels like a threshold a quiet door into my inner world”. Now that is beautiful. I will cherish that. 🌹
I think we all have spacces that are those thresholds
We spend our lives constantly chasing things, often feeling like we aren't "allowed" to rest unless we have something to show for it. But you realize you really do need a "bench" like this—a space where you don't have to talk, don't have to pretend, and where you're fully accepted just for showing up.