Somedays You Need a Hug
A repost (from May 13, 2013)
Most days you awake a fighter
Determined to survive, thrive, and heal
Calling forth all you’ve got
Plus some borrowed grit
To keep the sprout of hope alive.
But somedays you just need a hug instead,
a caress, a gentle empathetic touch.
You wish to walk out on rehab,
find a hospital
where they will let you lie down,
sleep while they dress your wounds.
Somedays you just want somebody
to wash your cuts,
with tenderness to bathe you,
of the blood and grime,
to say, “You are beautiful
underneath all that pain.”
You want somebody to see your soul,
to think you a mystery worth exploring
a complexity to honor.
You long for the hands of a healer
to lovingly untangle
the knots in silver chain:
at the end, a locket
that only opens to gentle touch.
Somedays you want to be heard,
carried, held, loved.
Soft words whispered…
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