Hearts

Why is there silence
when it comes to the fragility of our hearts
How easy it is for them to break
How healing is timeless
With no set path
Why are we left to fend for ourselves
Grasping in the dark
Clinging to any light that passes by.

No one says to you that
when your heart has been wounded
There is a sensitivity that comes
An attunement that buzzes
You become hyper aware
of other wounded hearts.

There is a language
that is transcribed in us
Painted in our psyche
Reflected in our eyes
Carried in our voice
Cast in our stride

This is both a blessing and a curse
It inspires us to either stay or flee
One to try and heal the other
The other to run from all that is a reminder.