Living with half a heart, part of a soul,
While another carries around a piece of you.
Meanwhile walking in shadows, the world moves . . . on. Leaves fall, seasons change. The winter winds breeze their icy
breath, whispering death.
And you have to keep moving, walking dead, waiting for the intake of breath and the coming spring, or hibernate in a cocoon of spent hope.
Beauty in pain. Growth in sadness. Many are afraid of it, shy away from it, run from it.
Take a pill, hide it, mask it, shoot it up, make it go away, they say.
Or feel it, swim in it, turn the memories over like a precious stone, grow from it, appreciate it, and become wise.
Punching hands, kicking feet, hammering down blows, just to feel . . . something.
Sweat, blood, muscles ache, jaws hurt, and sweep the wound clean.
Tears rain down, screams scrape heaven with their cries.
And then silence.
No answers, but peaceful nights. Sleep. Hope. Learning to value, to see. Abandonment of pride, and past pain.
Fighting to hold it close, letting it go, dreaming of days gone by and not yet come. Will this wrestling match ever end?
Laughing again. Silent peace. Trust. Healing.
