There is always a way

To do things lightly

To walk with ease

Not quite touching the tips of the grass

To abide in silence

To enjoy the transience

To go to bed early

To be the healer.

Yet, I always seem to chose

To rush head first

To ask too much

To dig through the dirt

And break the parts of me that can’t be mended.

I need to figure out

Who is this hungry part of me

Where she lives

What she wants

What she eats

So I can feed her

And hold her

And reassure her

So she can finally let me go.