take your time
to heal, my love
the way back to yourself
isn’t a breathless race
or a runaway train
your rehabilitation
requires respite
not rush
our rustic open wounds
become symmetrically
formed scars once we
allow ourselves time to rest
not when we thrash around
the way to healing isn’t a mountain
face that you must scale
your recovery isn’t a barrier
that you have to climb
your comeback isn’t an
obstacle course
of dangling legs,
grasping fingers
or racing heartbeats
that you are being called
to scramble around,
across or through
you won’t mend
your heart
by “getting over”
what happened to you
your suffering isn’t a
rickety ladder of noisy steps
~ it’s a quiet church of whispering angels
~ it’s a still lake of your beautiful reflection
~ it’s a sacred schoolhouse of learning
if we don’t spend time with
our pain
we never learn from it
if we don’t listen to the shifting
deep rumbles inside of us
we will build our lives on fault lines
if we treat our trauma like a
racecourse to speed through
we will keep crashing into the walls
I don’t believe you
will ever “get over”
anything terrible that
has happened to you
like it is a fence
instead
I believe that if
you rest with your pain
under a tree for an
hour or two
like it is your best friend
it will remind you
over and over about
how you are your most
beautiful when you refuse to give up
don’t let them lie to
you when they tell
you to “move on”
from your wounds
your wounds
make the best
teachers
they have so
much to teach you
about the wealth
of courage you
have inside of you
your pain isn’t
an obstacle
it’s a testimony
of how remarkably
brave you are
when you want to
know peace again
after you fall
to pieces
don’t speed through
your recovery
lie down with your
fat tears on
the couch
for as long as
it takes
to remember
there is absolutely nothing
that can stop you
you don’t need
to overcome anything
like it is a wall
you just need to rest
for a bit
and that’s how you
come back to yourself again
one long nap at a time
my love,
take your time
to heal
I’ll be here waiting
for you to emerge
from under the
blankets like the
Rose of New Life
I’ll be here writing
poetry about how
brave you are to
keep breathing
I’ll be here marveling
at how lovely you are
when you wear your scars
like midnight lingerie
~ “Remedy” by John Roedel
