Cherry blossoms in Acacia Street,
a feast for the eyes,
a scene so replete,
petals dance while we’re healing Inside.
Pink petals float,
beautiful be they,
a wistful smile upon my lips
as memories fly by.
So many unique people met on the path,
where we sat on the park benches,
getting to know each other as time would pass by
and people come and go,
So many life stories learned,
moments of vulnerable truth,
they learned about me,
I learned of them, too.
Despite my illness, I wanted to help,
to fix their turmoil inside,
but it turned out
I needed to try to heal myself, too,
that would be incredibly wise.
We had staff to attend to us,
but by banding together,
we grew stronger amidst the raging reds,
and solemn, moody blues.
Where are they now?
Are lives led happy and content?
Are they settled and stable?
Or are they still needing
to be held up by caring arms,
loving support always well meant?
We may have resented some support,
the strict nature of it all,
but these measures were in place
to protect us,
to allow the healing of them, us, those,
from the sicknesses which plagued our minds most.
Gratitude may be come at differing points,
perhaps immediate or after the fact,
but know they looked after us
while we were acute,
and they’ll catch us if we tumble,
if again we fall,
until we can grow within ourselves,
becoming more resilient
and firmer with inner strength,
taking steps ahead
for more well lives,
the cobblestones we’ll learn to
no longer need tread,
they are hopefully part of our past lives.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay
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