Cautiously tiptoeing out of survival mode,
She saw for the first time since the world fell apart
That her soul was aching,
So cloaked in fear and haunted by imminent threat
She had failed to notice the damage inflicted
On the inside.
There had been no time for processing,
No other option than to keep breathing
Focusing only on the basic physical existence
Of those she loved, of herself too,
Too traumatized to consider that deep within her consciousness
A heaviness had taken its toll.
After her body began a slow recovery into better days
Uncertainty hesitantly giving way to cautious optimism
She turned her attention inward, to the unsettling emptiness
Apologizing to her own neglected heart
For not noticing sooner its diminished state
Failing to hear its quiet but persistent inner pleadings
For support, for healing, for hope.
Perhaps she had instinctively known the impossibility
Of preventing her heart from bleeding out
So she had left it to its own defenses
While fear and illness had taken over her nervous system,
Seeing only now in the miracle of life beyond certain death
That it had survived through its worst battle yet
Silently and bravely, proving again and again its resilience.
Now she cradles her heart carefully in her palms
Listening, finally listening, to its soft-spoken voice
Hearing, finally hearing, its rudimentary needs,
For hope in the unrelenting bleakness
For safety in the throes of uncertainty
For closeness in isolation
For a chance to live out its purpose
Of healing mind, body, and soul.
The Therapy of Words 