There is room for joy –
sometimes a living room, spiraled and alive with houseplants,
sometimes a garden with an empty bench.

There is room for grief –
sometimes in a basement,
sometimes on a chair by the window.

There is room for anger –
sometimes in a closet under the stairs,
sometimes at a kitchen table.

There is room for stillness –
sometimes it waits in a tea cabinet,
or between the pages of an old book.

There is room for hope –
sometimes it rests on a windowsill, watching the trees,
sometimes it whispers, closed in the attic upstairs.

Courage also sits there –
sometimes silently under the bed,
or stands next to the entrance door.

This body can hold much more.
It is a spacious house.

Lukáš Sabol