~ I became my wound, now I choose to be the healing ~
Dear Desolate Me,
There is a place deep down inside.
A spot where you catch your breath and find it short.
A paralyzed place where you are afraid to move, scared to believe, reluctant to stretch out.
It’s like when you tore your hamstring clean off your ass at Slide Rock in Arizona, 4 years ago.
You sat in that ice-cold stream like a wounded animal, wondering if you would ever rise up out of that frigid water. You wondered if your life was changed forever, if your body would ever repair?
