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| Photo by Engin Akyurt: https://www.pexels.com/photo/silhouette-photo-of-woman-1446948/ |
For
everything under the sun there is a time.
This
is the season of your awkward harvesting,
When
pain takes you where you would rather not go,
Through
the white curtain of yesterdays to a place
You
had forgotten you knew from the inside out;
And
a time when that bitter tree was planted
That
has grown always invisibly beside you
And
whose branches your awakened hands
Now
long to disentangle from your heart.
You
are coming to see how your looking often darkened
When
you should have felt safe enough to fall toward love,
How
deep down your eyes were always owned by something
That
faced them through a dark fester of thorns
Converting
whoever came into a further figure of the wrong;
You
could only see what touched you as already torn.
Now
the act of seeing begins your work of mourning.
And
your memory is ready to show you everything,
Having
waited all these years for you to return and know.
Only
you know where the casket of pain is interred.
You
will have to scrape through all the layers of covering
And
according to your readiness, everything will open.
May
you be blessed with a wise and compassionate guide
Who
can accompany you through the fear and grief
Until
your heart has wept its way to your true self.
As
your tears fall over that wounded place,
May
they wash away your hurt and free your heart.
May
your forgiveness still the hunger of the wound
So
that for the first time you can walk away from that place,
Reunited
with your banished heart, now healed and freed,
And
feel the clear, free air bless your new face.
From Wikipedia: The Nightingale (2015) is a historical fiction novel by American author Kristin Hannah published by St. Martin's Pres...
