Dear Miracle

Setting free the beautiful truth inside.

The Kindness of Strangers


Small and large mercies everywhere when you look.
Light in the shape of a butterfly on a dark and stormy night.

Don’t shutter the windows ,

don’t turn the deadbolt just yet while hope survives—

just not inside of you.

One minute past giving up, calling it quits

while you believe as you do because of those that hurt you—

you, the stranger, who has extended so much mercy in your life.

Kindness is not dead even if you believe it true.

You are due, owed your time, ripe for the plucking.

And your story may be much different than you picture it now

as you stand upon the narrow ledge of your own aching heart

thinking no one sees

or worse, cares.

Mercy and kindness travel in pairs on the bus of surprise—that

is how they operate.

You never see them coming until they arrive.

And what if you have locked all the doors to your heart,

how shall they enter?

All the while they’ve been looking for you while you slump pale and cold,

buttressed behind the deadbolt and shuttered window.

This troupe, this Calvary of strangers who arrive most unexpectedly

to see you through the next minute or the rest of your life

here to restore your faith in you, how okay you really are.

You never quite know where and when they will appear,

who or what will waltz or breeze through your door with arms

full of what you need

or run into your burning house

with buckets of water to save you.

So go on, turn out the lights and go to bed.

but this I beg of you,

just be sure to leave the door open a crack

for possibility, please.

Photo and poem by S. (Sawyer) Wolfington

Author: DearMiracle

The hardest thing you will ever do is tell yourself the truth. This is about that. Vulnerability, becoming comfortable with ambiguity and answers that don't always arrive when we think they should. Living in that liminal space, a threshold of not always knowing becomes a sweet spot, a place of opening again and again.

3 thoughts on “The Kindness of Strangers

  1. I enjoyed your piece with its ending murmurs of possibility. Will you be at Mark’s March workshop? It would be nice to see you again.


  2. Thank you, April! We have this need to always appear as if we just fine, don’t we? I have most certainly put this face on at many points in my life, but I hope I’m getting better at not doing it quite as much. I did write this in response to someone else earlier today. Being quiet post surgery has lead me to a couple of aha moments where self worth is concerned. A new light is beginning to dawn–but it doesn’t mean I still don’t need help from time to time. I will share them with you later as my voice allows. They are applicable to many of us who suffer within our particular culture. –S


  3. Susie this is brilliantly written and heartbreaking at the perspective you have, like so many of us that no one cares. I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner. You always seem to have it all together and don’t need any help. I do the same thing. We need each other. I’m glad you wrote this and even more glad you left the door open just s little to let me in. I will text or talk w you tomorrow, dear one. Much love and hugs. April. 💗


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