41:I[185,["/_next/static/chunks/3xnt26d00_zk-.js","/_next/static/chunks/1s-yni1uf2lwd.js","/_next/static/chunks/42spz6paskvb6.js","/_next/static/chunks/06x30xgfe6iur.js","/_next/static/chunks/3b4qrzgkt_l12.js","/_next/static/chunks/15lgs8s22dk5l.js"],"SendEmailButton"] 47:I[45269,["/_next/static/chunks/3xnt26d00_zk-.js","/_next/static/chunks/1s-yni1uf2lwd.js","/_next/static/chunks/42spz6paskvb6.js","/_next/static/chunks/06x30xgfe6iur.js","/_next/static/chunks/3b4qrzgkt_l12.js","/_next/static/chunks/15lgs8s22dk5l.js"],"SignupCTA"] 39:["$","time",null,{"dateTime":"2023-12-11T15:00:00.000Z","children":"December 11, 2023"}] 3a:["$","span",null,{"aria-hidden":true,"children":"·"}] 3b:["$","span",null,{"children":"00:19:56"}] 42:T4e2,

Episode Notes

Today’s poem brings us into a relationship between someone struggling and a friend they find support in speaking with. Because these two people don’t live close to one another—and haven’t met in person—the friend has offered their text chain as a space to write, share, be vulnerable, and journal, even if the friend isn’t always able to reply. This poem is in the voice of the person struggling, who shares their honest, co-existing gratitude for and complicated wrestle with this dynamic.

Here's a snippet:

But the grass can’t be greener if I’ve never even known grass or green.

It’s in your holding of my hand without absorbing what it holds. In loving the hand itself.

Because all hands are a nebula moulding galactic weather patterns,

“Write here, anytime” is you saying: here is my open hand and though it will never be yours to use you can hold it with one hand while the other keeps writing.

Keeps fighting.

Listen to this week's episode to hear the rest of the poem! If you’d like to share your moment or memory on the podcast, please head to tinyurl.com/bravingthewaves.

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