9.26.25 // Icy Truth

I feel an icy truth of surrender swirling in the clouds above my head.
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A need for rest and respite — and yet a yearning, a fire fighting to keep the icicles from forming.
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Seasons war inside my heart: fire against ice, letting go against the desperate urge to hold on. Neither feels right. Both promise wounds on a body already worn thin by trying to inhabit the middle ground.
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But the wounds I anticipate are worse than the ones that actually come. Assumptive hurt — laced with little truth and rooted in fear — is no way to move through either flame or freeze.
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So I move forward: one fire-licked, icy step at a time. Letting the war rage without choosing a side.