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May 25
During the dark night of your soul, you came at my door.
I can’t tell how many, the only witnesses I have are the orchids and their friends. I see you, I feel you, and I hear you. You were fearful, hungry, and in desperate need of aid.
I apologize for the door being closed, and me
not being there to embrace your anguish.

You came when left out,
I understand and I know you can learn.
I wish I was nearby to teach you how to knock at a closed door.
It would've been easier and help you avoid throwing
the hammer and break the entry glass door.
That was a shock to my eyes. But,
I was happy to see the flowers unshattered. The only witness
that could tell me “They are good people,
in need to know what hides behind closed glass doors.
What is in there for them at this time?"

I cried,
I cried for me not being present, and I cried for them being left out,
and I wished that I would’ve had a bad habit of hiding money somewhere, and asked: “When they have been left out?”
Out of love
Out of care
Out of family
Out of attention
Out of the world
Out of embrace
And common sense.
When these innocent children of God, like me and like you have been left as a prey to the hungry flames of affliction.

When these children of God, like me and like you have been excluded, ignored, and punished in hell of mercy.
Left out to find fallen hope in the midst of the dark night soul...

I also asked what happened behind those closed doors,
when you have been scorned. A fiesta, or a sumptuous dinner, took place or maybe a somber face and rigid gaze spreading in the room when ignorance took over and the meaning of your existence was misunderstood.
What happened behind those closed doors?
when you have been left out. How old you were, and how fragile.
Did you have the strength to cry for help, or you accepted
desperately the dark place as the only way of being in this world.
I can see you bending towards the gray floor and searching in-kind despair every corner. I can feel your disappointment in finding only feathers and books that you threw on the floor without asking what it is in them for you. I can see your lips shrinking, and hope fade in clenched jaws looking at the blue walls
afraid of the pages you touched while searching for what you don’t know.
I still wish I would’ve had a bad habit of hiding some money, as
I once carefully kept green leaves in between childhood pages.
I  wish I was there.

I am grateful you took the speaker, the only BOSS in the space of healing.
Now you have what I had. What a wonderful way to connect.
I will take care and send you the waves and sounds of my heart while praying for you finding an honorable way of being here with all of us, and sharing the space as one.

I just want you to know that I see you,  I feel you, and I hear you.
My space is your space, and the door is always opened by grace.
Don’t be afraid! Come and ask for healing.
Come and heal your forgotten wounds, what has been broken and lost.

I am happy you didn't break the windows.
The orchids told me “they are good people”
there is hope that you will return to the crystal light.
I will pray day and night for the light to enter your heart,
exhausted from searching in the corners of a room that is not yours.

I apologize if I made you feel left out, and
not being in the space behind the closed door waiting,
giving you the
embrace you’ve always searched during the darkness of your soul.
Maria Mitea
Written by
Maria Mitea
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