Healing is the quiet hum,
A soft renewal, slow and numb,
The tender touch of time’s embrace,
A whispered breath, a steady pace.
In fractured hearts, a seed is sown,
Through cracks and scars, new strength is grown.
The wounds that bleed, the tears that fall,
Are threads that bind, not break at all.
With every dawn, the night recedes,
The pain transforms, the spirit feeds.
A journey long, a path unclear,
Yet through the storm, you’ll find the clear.
Each moment builds a fragile grace,
As hope emerges, finds its place.
Healing’s not in rushing fast,
But knowing peace is found at last.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie Fluharty
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