This was written some years ago now, as a thank-you present for someone who’s made an incalculable difference to how I feel about life and about myself. The poem belongs with this post because, for me, it is a hymn of praise to the fact that the deepest of wounds can sometimes be healed.

on doing something different

and anger need not be the last place
nor hatred the cell where we rot
the fever of rage may be broken
and what is may heal what was not

and distance need not be our refuge
nor coldness the shelter we build
the meltwater flows under kindness
the wasteland of hurt may be tilled

and bitterness need not be armour
nor judgement our blow against fears
our arms may perhaps be surrendered
the sacred be found in our tears

and trust does not have to be folly
nor hope be a lunatic dream
for truth is the way through the madness
and loving is what makes us free

and parting need not be an ending
nor loss be a fathomless hell
though suffering is the way forward
still, yes, in the end, all is well