The Wounded Healer

 They walk with limps you cannot see,

And hide their scars in empathy.
They’ve weathered storms you’ll never name,
And still they kneel beside your flame.

Their hands may tremble, hearts may ache,
Yet still they soothe what others break.
For pain has carved in them a space
Where others find a resting place.

They do not flinch at cries or tears,
They’ve made a home of shattered years.
They’ve bled, they’ve bowed, they’ve begged the night,
And now they lend you borrowed light.

They won’t pretend to have the cure,
But they will sit, and they’ll endure.
Not fixing just the sacred art
Of holding you when things fall apart.

For those who’ve lived the ache you bear
Will never ask you not to care.
They’ll let you feel, they’ll let you be,
And love you in your agony.

So trust the voice that's soft but sure,
The one who knows what you endure,
For sometimes only hearts that break
Can feel the weight another takes.

Bravely Failing

At first, a whisper deep within the chest,
A shadow stretched across the mind's bright room.
Each step unsure, each heartbeat tight and pressed,
The world a maze of silence, doubt, and gloom.

But fear, though sharp, is not a chain of steel
It trembles when the will begins to rise.
A single breath, a truth we choose to feel,
Can burn away the haze that veils our eyes.

For bravery is not the lack of dread,
But walking on despite the storm ahead.
It’s finding light when every flame seems dead,
And standing tall where once we crouched in thread.

What once we feared becomes the path we take
And in that stride, a sleeping soul will wake.