So many of us men can’t love ourselves enough to hear that quiet voice within,
the one that tells us where our true dignity lies,
what our deeper value is.
We’re so easily trapped by chatter about how we look,
how strong we are, how good a provider we might be,
ignoring the song we all carry inside of us,
the one that calls us home to our bodies,
and everything unfolding around and through us.
We can be as good at love as we are at fighting,
as supple as we are strong,
as vulnerable as we are certain.
But still we wander through the modern world,
chasing shadows of what a man is supposed to be
dolled out by those who have no feeling left within themselves.
If we could just trust this falling,
the moment the ground gives way,
when you don’t know what will happen next,
have the courage to tumble without hope of landing,
then we would know what it is to be truly alive
and the man would follow.
