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You may be beaten
But you can still heal
Your hands may hurt
But you can still provide relief
Your skin may be bruised
But you can still soothe others
You aren't weak just because you're broken
You can still make others whole.
You aren't limited by your own shattered flesh.
I'm still learning that even though I'm not doing well, I can still support the ones I love. You can still be a physician even with a broken leg.
Lauren Leal Jul 15
I pick my scabs and wonder why I keep remembering
Reacting to old feelings and habits when it's not necessary after years of growth
Nisha Oct 2021
At peace with my demons
Free from temptations
Finally awakened
Never forsaken by the God that created me

Thinking about what the future holds for me
Healthy as I can be
Manifesting who I aspire to be
Just short and simple ♡
CarolineSD Jun 2021
There is such thing as a healing round.
I won’t explain in detail as
A person does not speak of
Sacred things,
As if to assign form to what is
Better left
Shifting through the wind
Like the breath of God.

Better left to those whose
Ancestors passed down the songs
That shall not be sung in winter.

But I will speak of the
Splitting of my skin
At a feather’s edge
Bone whistle call,
Walls dissolved
And all the grief came pouring out.

Bent over, arms clutched across my Chest, sobbing now,
Tears wet the earth.

I finally allow in
The presence of my mother’s death

And a broader mourning
That I cannot define.

There is such thing as a healing round.

I am walking now
Footsteps quiet on the cathedral floor,
Faces in stained glass
Watching from lofty spires of marble and slick, gray stone.
Do their eyes follow my small, hesistant form?

I do not frequent churches and prefer to come alone

To enter a silence
In which all of the suffering
That this world
Has ever borne
Hangs heavy
Suspended in the resonance of
Great, imposing halls,
Vast oceans of sorrow, and here too,
Something that carries and lifts;

Perhaps, the love of God.

Heal us and forgive us
In our blindness
Take my hand and show me,
Again, the sunlit road
Where we can be found.

There is such thing as holy ground.

The water knows
Rushing between the rocks,
Between the wild, greening cliffs
Where gently a little Robin flits
And perches on the tangled brush
Beside the shore.

You belong here, she sings,
You belong
You belong

And there is such thing as holy ground

Always within it beauty
And a great sadness looming

And how is it that so few can trace the outlines of its form
Beneath the skin,
But you can
You can
You can?
azumiya Apr 2021
what to do when you're done being mad?
what to do when you're done blaming yourself and other people?
what to do when you're done being sad?
what to do when you're done confronting the painful memories?
what to do when you've sobered up?
what to do when you're finally healed?

Begin again.
I have fought the good fight.
Now give me the good times.
a word that comes to mind

when i look at the marks

scattered below my wrist.


full stop.

there will be no more harm here.
CarolineSD Jan 2021
A dark sun pulls heavily within
These long minutes of isolation
A vortex opens
A chasm in the lungs
And it makes the abrasive air thin.

I am breathing shallowly like one
Feral thing caught in a trap
Nowhere to run
And thus forced to rest right next
To the parts of myself that I hate
The parts that can’t escape their own
Internal blankness
Though they faintly remember how to sing or

The remote and shadowed trail to Jerusalem

Call me home
There is music in the bones of the forest
And the wild reeds are dancing on

The banks of Babylon  

We should not fall and
Lay our desecrated souls across an altar of darkness;

No, if you listen very carefully at the precipice of dawn,

There, where the mountains lift the thickened fog into a brightening sky

There is still the quiet drum of hope
And the flutter of so many unbeaten hearts
Like butterflies reborn


Inspired by this uplifting song out of South Africa. To me, it brings a sense of finding hope, finding a home for our worn souls <3 The words are in Zulu and mean “Jerusalem is my home, rescue me, walk with me, do not leave me here, come with me, walk with me” and these little dancers are a dance crew from Kampala, Uganda <3<3
SquidInk Nov 2020
Imagine being in a world where it seems like everyone belongs and you are lost. Imagine going through your day feeling numb because you are scared of putting yourself out to get hurt. Imagine putting on a fake smile and not being happy at all. Imagine being surrounded by people you call friends but you don't even like. Imagine faking happiness because it feels like you forgot to be happy. But then imagine finding someone who turns that all around. Imagine finding someone that genuinely puts a smile on your face. Imagine finding that one person you tell everything to. Imagine not having to fake it around that person. Imagine all the hurt that they have healed. And that's why I say thank you for giving me happiness again best friend.
finding my happy place
Paul Idiaghe Nov 2020
when you trickled, the past pulled from my eyes,
hung like (f)lashes from my eyelids—still
growing with my face, still
oscillating old images

of mama’s smile, sunken
in dimples, deep as her love for me
as a promising oasis—how
she’d ooze her only moisture
to quench my thirst,

of my little legs leaping
up the stairs, after weeks separated from home,
hoping to find mother, healed,
grabbing me into a hearty hug,

but rather finding
dad, direly drained by grief,
a grand gathering of greasy eyes,
silence, sobbing, and the sweaty sequel of
i’m sorry, we—

it was the day of her funeral,

& i was a five-year-old, already wondering
what it means to be a child without
a mother, what it means
to live to die

i let you drip into her grave, wishing
i could go along with you,
with her

but look, i’m rather
going along her prudent path,
stretching it to all the painful, all the pleasant
striving to complete it

& though it’s tough
to walk this wicked world,
i’ll pass the peak,
wearing mother’s wounds
as wings.
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