In the quiet corners of night,
where shadows stretch and whisper,
a cry breaks free,
brittle as the last leaf of autumn,
shuddering through the silence,
echoing the weight of emotions
bottled, tucked into the crevices of being.
Tears pool like rain on window sills,
each drop a testament to trauma,
a heavy cloak worn with weary grace,
the heart, a fractured mirror
reflecting shards of a past
that clings like a shadow,
pulse quickening in anxious anticipation,
each reminder a jagged breath.
Yet, in the rubble of pain,
where nightmares sift through daylight,
there blooms a fragile courage—
a brave flicker in the dark,
the gentle hum of healing,
soft as the dawn,
that whispers, “You are not alone.”
And so, we rise,
though we tremble under history’s weight,
we hold our scars like sacred stories,
and with each step,
the path uncoils,
an unwritten symphony,
a testament to resilience,
where even the shattered can sway
to the rhythm of survival,
finding solace in the fragile art of being.
https://mymindmappings.com/2024/10/28/fowc-with-fandango-shudder/
Therapy Bits 
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