A calm, quiet female voice spoke into the darkness
Of someone whose world had been shattered
Into splinters so small, so dangerously tiny,
That they would never be whole again.
The house of cards that I had been blindly building
Imagining that it mattered, that it was solid and firm
Had come crashing down around me
Smashed to the floor in a single sweeping blow.
I had come to the end of my resources
And I didn’t know why.
I can no longer remember the words spoken,
Although there were many,
But I know that nobody else was saying them to me.
The words may be gone
But I can remember the feeling
Of reaching out towards that voice,
Clinging to someone who knew,
And didn’t need to make a song and dance about it.
Only a single sentence remains.
“It’s good to know that you can bleed.”
When I finally saw the face behind the voice,
A small bundle of concerned energy,
The woman was looking at me intently.
She put her hand on my shoulder.
“Pat- how are you?”
She really wanted to know.
And you know what?
I was all right.
Not in the same way as I used to be, never that.
But all right.
for Angela Merry.