When Your Heart is Wounded, I Will Hold Your Hand.

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I turned my head and there you were—trailing behind me, your eyes cast down, your heart so wounded, bleeding teardrops onto the cold, hard ground.

I can’t work miracles, but I can hold your hand.

Somewhere back there, you were stronger and wiser. Somewhere back there, you had more answers. Somewhere back there, you had the confidence of a warrior.

I don’t know why this suffering is so bitter for you, but I know that I can hold your hand.

This won’t last forever. These are days of discovery. This is a time for reflection and counting your blessings. A time to question, a time to seek wisdom. A time for laying yourself bare to the truths that guide you.

I can’t do it for you, but I can hold your hand.

For the longest time, you were my strength—you saw me through the worst of my nightmares. You cradled my pain, you sat through my darkness…remember when you held my hand?

Lovers and friends, we ebb and flow, like the tides that seek the guidance of the moon; we sway, we turn, we dance, we fall—always—holding hands.

The strength in your eyes was once the spiritual food that I fed on. The warmth of your arms was once the refuge that I drowned in.

You can’t offer it now, but I can still hold your hand.

Down in the cave of long-held dreams, you can curl up like a child; you can return to the stories told by ancient scribes and remember why you’re here. You can close your eyes and search the darkness, you can unfold the map of your sacred being and take a breath of awakening.

I can’t be your oxygen, but I can hold your hand.

When visions threaten to overwhelm you, and you scrape open the scar of your pain—when you peer with curiosity at what fell you to your knees, when honesty screams your name and you have to face your humanity—I will hold your hand.

The rest here, my loves; When your Heart is Wounded, I will Hold your Hand. | elephant journal

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