my arm guards the tender place
there is pain
my body lists a little to the side
bending and curving around what hurts
habits forming with thought and without thought
moving crookedly now
a soreness that will ease
perhaps
with time and attention
these are the obvious and expected
reactions to physical wounds
where does my mind bend around a tender spot
is it camouflaged deftly
preventing awareness from tending those
heart wounds
like a garden to pluck the weeds
like a garden to turn the soil
like a garden to compost last year’s crop
like a garden to grow healthy vegetables
like a garden to grow medicinal herbs
like a garden to grow beautiful flowers
the potential is there
but I must walk through the garden gate
maybe rusted shut
hinges needing to be replaced
so it does not scrape the ground
I gather the tools
I let down my guard
the only time to begin is now
and always
