Healing

There can be a cut, a scratch, a heartfelt slash
in the thick, calloused skin of yours,
penetrated delightfully into those well-built layers of your flesh.
That bruised accumulation of cells you call a body evolved to heal.
You can trust that it will grow its roots over your superficial wounds
and keep you shaded from the brazen sunshine of germs and dirt,
but there’s no textbook magic some higher power highness gave you
to meld over the scrapes and squanders of your mind.
There’s no “how to” and “trust the system”
when you find your fresh-cup-of-tea smile
turn down to a over-steeped-brew smirk with spilled-milk tears.
No matter how much sugar you add to mask your sadness
or depression or anxiety or lost love,
the taste of denial will curdle in the back of your mouth
because a band aid can’t heal all when it just covers.
May it take a day, a month, or a few years,
take that slow, mindful walk in the park,
take that soothing chamomile bath,
take that adventurous gap year.
Your delicate mind may not compare in heartiness to its host,
but let the courageous grass grow
and soon enough you’ll have infinite, euphoric meadow.

Published byAmanda

Journey of a millennial kombuchaholic, tea fanatic, future holistic dietician, college student who wants to live a zero-waste life filled with love, laughter, and nature

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