this is healing
i never have been patient.
a cut takes a few days to heal
a scrape, maybe a few more
but when something breaks-
-well, that’s never happened to me before.
i’d imagine it takes a long time
waiting for those broken bones to heal
but like i said, i wouldn’t know
and can’t imagine how it must feel.
yet, what is it called when winter becomes spring?
could that not also be called healing?
what is barren, broken, mere dust
empty, colorless, so lonely, so gray
what do you call all these things
that recover from decay?
how could it be anything else
this rebirth, this miraculous mending
how could it be anything other
which begins with pain ending?
perhaps i do know what it is
to heal from a broken thing
my heart was broken once
yet winter still became spring.
it is april now
and with it, come the showers
but someone told me long ago
the rain will bring you flowers
so now, here i am, waiting-
-no, dancing in the rain
i never have been patient
but i think that i can change.