Wounds will find any path withered by turmoil.

Drenched in landscapes of confused memories

Torn between past and present

Lingering moments within the abyss

Ready to jump off the precipice

Hoping to find meaning for suffering long held

In one’s presence of being.

Why can’t you see the signs?

The light that blessed the wound upon its wayward journey.

The life created so that your memories would exist.

The peace that held your hand as you were ready to jump.

The softening of your suffering when you became still.

Don’t be so afraid of letting your wounds heal.

You are most deserving of this grace.