"She Was My Mother, Still Is My Ache"
There are some who cry without ever knowing pain—
While I’ve been wounded so many times,
I no longer flinch, no longer feel.
When hearts are so fragile around you,
What can anyone really do?
If you dwell too long on the hurt,
Life starts to slip through your fingers.
Agonizing over pain is a silent thief—
It steals time, peace, and the will to move forward.
Goodness is the quiet truth of life.
And life… it flows on, with or without us.
And in all this passing, all this silence—
There’s my mother.
A name that holds too much,
And says too little.
@Antibiotic
Everyone knows pain sooner or later.
Wounds become scars. Scars contribute to wisdom.
All hearts start out fragile.
Dwell on the hurt long enough to learn from it, then when possible, let it go.
Otherwise, life will slip through your fingers.
Pain can be managed when its inevitability is accepted.
Suffering –
ruminating over injustices that cannot be resolved, is the greatest
thief.
Goodness contributes quiet grace to life.
Everything passes except Love.
There’s my mother, a manifestation of mental illness.
Always said far too many words without fulfilling her chosen role.
Respond with grace to hardship and neglect, to empathize with others and find your own healing.
@Spiritriver
💜💗
