I did not fall from grace: I leapt to freedom.
—Ansel Elkins, “Autobiography of Eve”

What if every fall is a leap to freedom?
What if the cast is the cocoon under
which a simple caterpillar gestates?
What if, in every ending—as brutal,
heartbreaking, unfair as it feels—
lies a beginning, a promise,
a do-over, a surprise?
What if that surprise is peace?

What if, as we clear away the clutter
of a season or a lifetime,
we discover treasures?
What if one of the treasures is grace,
which cannot be fallen from,
which is our birthright,
which accompanies our every step,
no matter how shaky,
every breath, no matter how ragged?

What if we are born anew every morning,
every moment with big, blinking eyes,
with perfect little feet and fingernails?
What if we are beheld with adoration
by one looking at us right now
(perhaps one we cannot see), thinking—

There you are! A miracle…
has there ever been such a lovely you?