Sometimes, great sorrows seem unshareable,
They can shut us up into ourselves
Making us impenetrable,
And others are left to wander
On the outer frames of our souls,
Only occasionally poking their heads inquisitively
Into the deep mystery beneath.
They say we all live with scars, but some of us live with open wounds that never truly heal, they flare up sometimes and bleed all over again. But we learn to accept them as part of who we are. It is possible to feel happiness, to take joy and to laugh out loud while still living with wounds with nothing but a couple of self-sewn stitches to prevent them from splitting apart anew.
You gave me all your days,
They came and went
With rocks and weeds,
Brambles and blossoms.
Now I give you all my tomorrows,
Softly above haze,
Or thorny in graceful loneliness,
With gales and hush,
Hale and summers,
They are all yours.