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How are you there?
Holding up?
Sometimes it seems that you are so exhausted.
There is no will, no desire.
Long-winded fatigue and lack of desire to move.
And the body, just to please, throws signals: here and there it needles, press drawlingly, begins to moan…
And the heart is whimpering like a little puppy in the cold rain …
And quite dark ahead – no any signal lights.
And the events are circling and twisting all around, quickly following and lapping each other, pushing and stretching deep wounds at the heart.
And…
This is just a breather.
Just a chance to allow yourself to cry, to take pity on that little girl who was a little tired of adult worries inside.
To caress her, patting on the hair, putting fingers closer to the hair roots, gathering and separating small braids.
To look into her wonderful deep eyes, hug tenderly and lull.
As in childhood, shaking gently in tune with the beat of a tender childish heart.
A little breather for the wings to rest, those that hold up and protect you.
Feeling a fair wind, they will open wide in all their beauty and strength:
so that the soul, crying softly, breathes deeply, breathing in the power of the wind and the warmth of the sun;
so that the heart beats smoothly and calmly, catching the rhythm of the day and night, the music of the world around, weaving its own melody into it;
And then a new day will come. Events will overlap each other, like sea waves, sometimes lurking, turning into a quiet calm, sometimes with fury lapping on the coast, mixing seashells and pebbles.
And you…
You will be calm and confident in your strength, rooted deep into the earth, taking by bare feet the sea-coast rolling, swaying under the pressure of the southern wind, smiling and greeting it.
Hug you.
My wind is your wind.
Breathe close to me.