This is going to hurt
both of us,
as so many
necessary things do.
Life is living,
breathing, trying.
Dying is nothing,
but the end of this.
Trying to find the words
to come right out
and tell you
that I don’t know
the medicine to heal you.
Life in many ways
remains
a self-inflicted wound,
and you
are so very good
at wounding.
When your words
are weapons,
turning them on others
might get you what you want,
even it’s just to be
left alone.
Eventually you’ll do it,
you’ll make the same mistake
we all do in life,
and you’re going to
want to die.
As easy
as it might be
to turn those weapons
on yourself,
and tell yourself
lies and truths
of your abuse.
Tempting as it might be
to want to feel
the misery
and end it,
there is no remedy there.
I wish I knew
the words to bandage your wounds,
the way to speak
through to you
that would heal all this abuse.
I can’t do it,
so it’s up to you.
To lift your head again.
Put your eyes up high
and use those same words
to heal your pain.
You can do it.
It’s in you.
Life wants to continue.
Speak and be renewed.
All I can do
is help you
find your voice,
so you can sing
your own medicine.
HG – 2022
