Let There Be Havens: Creating Spaces That Hold Us

There is a line in Liz Bell Young’s poem Let There Be Havens that lingers long after the final stanza—not because it offers answers, but because it names a deep human ache. An ache for places, people, and practices where we can exhale. Where we are not performing, producing, proving, or trying to survive. Where we are simply allowed to be.

In a world shaped by urgency, noise, and fracture, the idea of a haven is not sentimental. It is essential.

What Is a Haven?

A haven is not an escape from reality. It is a place that makes reality survivable.

Havens can be physical spaces—a quiet room, a kitchen table at dawn, a trail where your nervous system settles. They can be relational—someone who listens without fixing, who welcomes your whole self without demand. They can be internal—practices that restore your sense of grounding, dignity, and belonging.

Young’s poem does not ask us to wait for havens to appear. It invites us to let there be havens—to participate in their creation. This is a radical reframe. We are not merely recipients of refuge; we are its stewards.

Why We Need Havens Now

Many people are living without adequate places to land. Even those who appear “fine” are often operating beyond sustainable limits—mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically. Chronic vigilance has become normalized. Rest is treated as indulgence. Silence feels unfamiliar.

Without havens:

• Our nervous systems stay locked in survival mode.

• Relationships become transactional rather than connective.

• Reflection is crowded out by reactivity.

• Compassion—toward ourselves and others—erodes.

Havens interrupt this pattern. They slow the pace enough for truth to surface. They restore choice. They remind us that wholeness is possible.

Becoming a Haven for Yourself

Creating a haven does not require perfection or abundance. It requires intention.

Ask yourself:

• Where do I feel most like myself?

• What helps my body soften rather than brace?

• What practice consistently returns me to center?

A haven might look like a daily walk without headphones. A candle lit before the house wakes. A journal where nothing has to be polished. A boundary that protects your energy. These are not small acts. They are formative ones.

Becoming a Haven for Others

Young’s poem also gestures outward. Havens are not meant to be hoarded.

We become havens when we:

• Listen without rushing to respond.

• Make room for complexity without judgment.

• Offer presence rather than solutions.

• Create spaces—formal or informal—where people feel safe enough to tell the truth.

In this way, havens are contagious. One well-tended space has the power to reshape a family, a community, a culture.

An Invitation

Let there be havens is not a passive wish. It is a call to action grounded in care.

What would shift if you treated the creation of havens as part of your responsibility to yourself—and to the world?

Start where you are. Begin with what you have. Tend the spaces that hold life.

Because when havens exist, healing has a space to begin.