I used to think that maybe our souls were like shadows. More
specifically, like shadows from Neverland – Peter Pan’s shadow.
I imagine
my own shadow is more translucent now as I struggle to connect with others –
more than just the shallow passing words. There is a cannon-blasted hole where
my chest should be, the emptiness echoing with every chime from my
still-beating heart. That’s the hole that you left behind. My heart beats on,
because it must, but there is no fixing this ragged, ugly space left behind.
This desperate, yearning, sacred space.
I'm feeling all used up today. Crinkled along the edges, wilting.
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