When astronomers want to locate a large planet far off in a distant galaxy, they have to look for the invisible space. What they are looking for, they cannot see: it’s too far away, or too hidden. They know it exists, however, because of what they can see.
For today’s prompt, I’d like you to explore this theme. How do we see the gesture, the mass, the gravity, of the one you love, now that we cannot look at them directly? How do we know the shape, the weight, the being, of the one you love, by what we see in you?
You might start this prompt as though you are speaking to the one you love, rather than speaking to us: The world can see the shape of you in me.
The world can see the shape of you in me.
I hope so. That is my intent. The way you lived your life continues to affect the way I live mine.
Yes, the world can see the shape of you, the impact of you, in much I am and much I do. The true shape of you, the true impact of your life, is much bigger than my being.
The shape of you takes form as I interact with others. Each show of compassion lends you further detail. Each unspoken kindness brings you into sharper relief.
When I tell your story, anchored in our truth, your feet take shape.
When I stride forward with confidence in my beliefs, sure but never strutting, your legs take shape.
When I help others, willing in spirit and generous with time, your arms take shape.
When I use my calluses and scars to my advantage — as protection rather than something to hide — your hands take shape.
When I love freely and treasure those around me, your heart takes shape.
When I eliminate prejudice from my life, accepting and loving everyone for who and what they are, your soul takes shape.
When I analyze my place in the world and consider the perspective of the transcendentalists, your mind takes shape.
When I kick butt at cards, even beating Little Mittens, your shit-eating grin takes shape.
If the world can see the shape of you in me, I’m doing something right.
Woods Writes 