"Be at peace, old fear. Thank you for your teachings.
Return to the Earth Mother now, I no longer bind you to me."
RUMI: Alana Fairchild
The years applied heavy layers of fear upon the wounded heart. As if applying band aids for pristine healing, well intended interventions were stacked, one upon another. And still, the wound bled. Lacking exposure to pure light, the wound festered in darkness.
At what point does compassion turn inward? Is it when a person crumbles, turning into rubble?
Perhaps it is then when healing words begin to take form and we mutter: "No more!" When the dust settles and vision clears, a sliver of hope beckons us forward for a better sense of self.
In the forthcoming years, strips of decay are peeled from body, mind, and soul. It is a painful process, but not as demeaning as wallowing in self hate, repulsion and fear. In small increments, the wound does indeed heal. When the scars begin to fade and heavenly light appears, our heart soars, no longer bound by fear.
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