There is a circle there
Bounded by four chairs
Wide cushioned seating
Round that circle
Circling for a safe place to land
A place of comfort that must pass though discomfort

Words, words, words, roll around the circumference of the circle
From one speaker to the next like a wounded bird, it's wings clipped, trying to meet the ground most gently

Each voice adds to the wind that sustains flight. Tales in turn,
Tail winds that nurture the same story
An anthology that softens the landing.

Words of shared tragedy,
Voices edged with tears,
Tales of hurt,
Glimmers of hope.
A crescendo on the breaking line between melodies of relief and the rage of a maelstrom.

The living heart of the storm is full of love but beating in pain
As it gathers pounding momentum, new voices are added, the storm takes shape can the tempest find its own peace?


Right there.
Right there in the center.
The center of that circle.
That circle that holds them all together.
That circle bounded by four chairs.

As the circle breaks they find they can navigate life anew. Released by the storm, not dropped by it. They can laugh again. They can be better than before. Having been part of that turbulent chorus that miraculously heals the soul.