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

than healing

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.