To hold and be held

Who is holding you while you carry all of that?

That weight heavy on your chest, settled deep in your shoulders.

Stifling your voice, smothering your breath.

That burdensome chain leaving you gagged and bound?

Who’s holding you, loving you?

No one?

Let me take that for you…

Lean your full weight into me as I kiss your head and stroke your neck.

I will tend to your aches, within and without.

Brush your fingertips with my lips,

press my palms into the small of your back.

Melt into me.

Pour yourself into the space I’m holding.

I want to carry you the way you once held me.

I’ve got you now.

Take a deep breath in,

and a long, sweet, releasing sigh out.

Rest here, gently, for as long as you need.

This time is yours.

To be held, as you have been holding.

I won’t take it away.

I wrote this after a shibari - a Japanese rope practice rooted in restraint and trust - and bodywork session. It revealed something I hadn’t fully claimed before - my own need to be held, supported, and met… after years of holding others, often single-handedly.

There was something deeply liberating in consciously choosing what binds me, and why, rather than being unconsciously rigged by old patterns and conditioning.