“Time Heals All Wounds”
A poem for healing
People will tell you that “time heals all wounds,” but I think we got that wrong — it’s not time that heals — it’s people. People who see the sadness in your soul and try to be the balm to fix it: with homemade banana bread and coffee on Sunday morning, a box of tissues and a shoulder to lean on, and a heart that listens before it speaks. With patience to hear the hurt that spills out of your soul, the bravery to hold your hand, and the energy to wade out with you into the waters as you take time to swim back to shore. With shared jokes and unabashed laughs and the type of cheerleading that would make the entire cast of Bring It On proud. With the ferocity of a mama bear who would do anything to protect her cubs and the kind of strength that allows people to lift cars solely with their arms. In time, all wounds fade, but the people, words, and choices you make after the cut — that’s what will help you heal.
