All my life, I’ve never been invited.
I’ve been tolerated. I’ve been allowed.
I’ve been requested. Demands were made of me.
But I’ve never been invited.
I would ask to come in. I would invite them. I would offer them, me.
Sometimes they’d say no, and I’d be relieved.
Sometimes they’d say maybe.
Sometimes they said yes, but didn’t mean it.
Sometimes they said nothing.
When I came to offer myself, I came in innocence.
I didn’t come to receive, I came to give.
Had my gift been returned, or even accepted, I’d’ve been immensely grateful.
But I’d never ask it of you.
When you asked me to share.
Asked me to simply be. Refused to let me hide.
Refused to let me make excuses.
Refused to let me feel that I could not trust you.
You gave me everything I’d never ask for.
And yet everything I ever needed.
I want nothing but for you to be loved.
For you to be safe and happy.
You tell me that I can feel safe around you.
And I want to.
But after all these years, I still struggle with invitations.
So forgive me, but I must ask this one thing of you:
Take this outstretched hand of mine, and invite me in.
And everything I am will be yours.
– Cedric Till