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Younger
When I was younger,
I used to sit beside a river
and wonder how it kept moving
after crashing into so many rocks.
I thought something so wounded
would eventually stop towing
Would finally become still
from all the damage.
But it never did.
It carried storms, broken branches,
entire pieces of destruction-
and still found a way forward.
Years later, I finally understood
why that river felt so familiar.
Some souls survive by learning
how to keep moving
through everything
that tried to destroy them.
And maybe that is what healing really is-
not becoming untouched,
not forgetting the pain,
but refusing to become cruel
after surviving cruelty.
