In Dr. Barry’s Office
The room was quiet,
but not empty—
your voice met mine
like an open door.
I laid my thoughts down,
uneven stones in trembling hands,
and instead of slipping away,
you gathered them,
turning them over with care,
as if each one deserved a place.
You listened,
not just with ears,
but with the stillness
that says: I am here, I see you.
Validation rose like sunlight,
warming corners I had left in shadow.
For once, my language
did not need translation—
you understood.
I left not lighter,
but steadier,
my reflection reshaped
in the calm of your regard.
Dr. Barry,
you remind me
that healing begins
where we are heard.
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