I used to go digging
poking and prodding
into the human psyche.

That was before 
I knew how much
she doesn’t like to be forced.

Now I prepare 
a safe, warm and inviting 
space for her.

I bow at her feet
in reverence to the 
mysteries she holds.

I listen to the 
quiet whisper of 
unspoken words.

Loud and bold
defences set in place
so long ago.

Tender places
perhaps a single sacred 

I allow her to 
crawl into my lap
and curl up tight.

She speaks to me
in images
too painful to bear.

In sensations
that often have no words
just a gasp

Clenched fists
clenched jaw
I can’t.

Secrets held
deeply in the 
folds of her body.

A slight turning
away that speaks 
of shame.

heart quaking

hidden wisdom
5 years old.

Silent screams
night terrors

Frozen parts
just waiting
to thaw.

A deer 
in the headlights
fixed gaze.

Aching bones
traumatized brains
and exhaustion.

Grown up masks
used to cover
a fractured psyche.

And mercy.

The precious exhale of  being invited
to be here.

In the magical 
and organic unfolding
of her own nature.

Without pressure
or the censor
of too many words.

She is the guest 
of honour in the
Benevolent space of Now.

©  Candace Kirby

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