To the brave

Oh brave one, when did you begin to hate? Who planted that seed of an idea deep within your soul, and taught you to nurture it?
When were you witness to such an act that would allow you to believe hurting was better than loving?
Did you carry it with you from a past life, like a scar on the bark of a tree, or did you pick it up like an artifact found in the dust beneath your feet?
Where does your soul find rest besides causing pain and destruction? 

Why, darling, do you insist on loving others and hating your very being?
Your feet are restless and your heart beats as your breath slips in and out. Who fed you the lie that you do not deserve the very air you are breathing?
Darling, look at your life. Where did you get the notion that you are to be alone? 

Your awkward shuffles and motions, feet trip and arms bending. Catch yourself before you fall.
Oh, brave one, you can be love. Love and be loved. You reflect worth. Why do you continue to doubt? 
You have always been surrounded by blessings and care, why do you continue to refuse the gifts you receive? 
You ask why your life was chosen, seemingly at random. Confusion and anxiety are at the forefront of your life, and you begin to realize that maybe it doesn’t have to be this way.
Oh, you have the strength to change and overcome. I know how hard this is. Please keep on this path and be courageous.
Oh, brave one, diminish the hate. The root is too deep, and can’t be removed from the gritty soil. The thorns cut your hands and blood runs in tiny rivers down your palms.
It takes finding yourself and the right tools. You’re frustrated, I know. It seems as if this is a never ending saga, that just when you decide to fight to survive, fate raises a hand to smother you.
You’re exhausted, and fear creeps in. Shadows rising behind you, seen in the corners of your eyes. 
Run, if you know what’s best. Steady feet and a strong will. Your arms and legs stretch like rubber bands, muscles twang and carry you, flying across the mangled ground.

Oh, brave one look at the horizon, you’re going to make it. 


2 thoughts on “To the brave

  1. I love the image and the questions you ask. Glad I found your blog today. Recovery indeed does happen one bite at a time. There is always a tricky moment before each meal where I have to consciously choose to give up my hungry feeling, pick out what I’m going to eat, make it and then actually put it in my mouth. Some days it’s a snap, other days it’s an effing battle. High five to your bites and the battle.


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