At first, peace feels like an illusion
After numberless days treading water
Our soul muscles desensitized to strain
Stamina built by force of continuous trauma
As we rise and fall and rise again.
Dear soul, do you feel the subtle pull of peace?
The quiet hope waiting just around the next bend?
The safety net ready to catch your fall,
After the relief of survival settles in?
Peace tiptoes through the back door of our suffering
Encircles us unexpectedly, catches us off-guard
Breaking down our defenses with soft reassurances
That we are safe to breathe, we are still alive,
And it takes time to begin to earnestly believe
That in a world of shadows and downpours
There are also strands of lights shining with peace
And we are not exempt from light, dear soul,
We are not exempt,
The Therapy of Words 