for those who love adults who were once hurt children

Sometimes, the grief rises

like bile in my throat

when I look at their precious face

and see the scared kid inside.

They have suffered so greatly,

and weathered so much.

I am too late

to save the child they once were.

I feel helpless in the face of the past.

Help me / help them / know the past is past.

Help me / help them / feel the love within the grief.

Help me / help them / stay rooted in the now.

Blessed are those who go through hell

and live to tell the tale.

Blessed are their small victories.

Blessed are their coping strategies.

Blessed are the setbacks and the steps forward.

And blessed are we, who hold their hands

as they chip away at the hardened mortar

and dismantle the fortress that once protected them.

Bless us with patience.

Bless us with hope.

Bless us with strength.

We cannot change the past,

but we can tend to the present

and plant seeds that will bloom

next year, too.

They have come through the storm.

Alive.

What a miracle.

From my booklet, Seven Prayers for Everyday: https://issuu.com/aprusky/docs/seven_prayers_for_every_day