I Keep a Journal
I need to write. Sometimes it clears the way for understanding.
I read about broken pieces of a persons soul. How this man carried them around for years. Then the pieces spilled out. It stays in my mind. I feel my pieces scattered. Some step on them, some pick them up with care, and others just stare not knowing how to help. I hold a piece from time to time. I think this is what “my” normal feels like. Only it dissolves in my hands. When will these pieces of me be whole again.
What I have collected...broken and jagged pieces. They hurt as I pick them up. I still try.
Today I will try to smooth the edges. Put some together. How? The only way I know how to...just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Offer kindness to myself. Allow the hurt to be felt. Breathe.
I read about broken pieces of a persons soul. How this man carried them around for years. Then the pieces spilled out. It stays in my mind. I feel my pieces scattered. Some step on them, some pick them up with care, and others just stare not knowing how to help. I hold a piece from time to time. I think this is what “my” normal feels like. Only it dissolves in my hands. When will these pieces of me be whole again.
What I have collected...broken and jagged pieces. They hurt as I pick them up. I still try.
Today I will try to smooth the edges. Put some together. How? The only way I know how to...just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Offer kindness to myself. Allow the hurt to be felt. Breathe.
