In the hardest moment, just before giving up, there exists a small and graceful silence. In its subtlety we miss it, like the hushing sound snow makes. Yet, in this instant comes the promise of new hope and a life less lived in vain.
Some carry this freight, inordinate and lumbering. They wear it in the creases below their eyes. They feel it in their necks, flinching with every danger. They believe this anticipation will save them from harm. Surviving seals the seams that crack the wanderers, stitch, stitch, stitching at one end, unraveling at the other. That which pulls the thread is the weight of resiliency.
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