Most of my truths are too big to take in all at once.

They require a smaller tool.

One made for contact, not change.

Spoons uncover.

They invite me to partake.

Like warm soup on a cold day.

Or ice cream on a hot one.

Spoons deliver what fits.

A spoon gives me the next bite.

Not the whole meal.

What’s here now.

One layer at a time.

Spoons are for solitude.

When I’m working on me.

Uncovering the feeling I skipped.

The preference I pretended wasn’t there.

The ache I thought I’d already worked through.

For nourishment.

They’re light.

They carry weight.

They make it easy.

Thy help me hold one truth at a time

without choking on clarity.

Most of what’s changed me

didn’t arrive in bulk.

It arrived by spoon.