There’s a small PO box in Dublin. Number 12987.
But here’s the deep truth: An unopened box is still a kind of prayer. It says: I haven’t given up on being heard. It says: Even my silence is addressed to someone. po box 12987 dublin ie
We all have a PO box 12987 somewhere inside us. A quiet place where unsent things collect dust. Where we mail our fears and call it “being strong.” Where we file our grief under “later.” Where hope waits — not impatiently, but faithfully — for someone to turn the key. There’s a small PO box in Dublin
No bold signage. No queues of expectant faces. Just a metal door in a wall — anonymous, still, unremarkable to anyone passing by. unremarkable to anyone passing by.
