maybe healing is….

maybe healing doesn’t sound like running bath water and soft lo-fi and a voice dripping with confidence and the thump of feet that aren’t afraid to make sound. maybe it is wind chimes in april, when the world is warming, when the sky stops storming, when the tips of the clouds are gleaming in the newfound sun. maybe it is “i see you are trying” instead of “perfect, well done”. maybe it is a prayer whispered through semi-stitched lips, learning how to speak after extended silence. 

maybe healing doesn’t taste like vitamins and chicken salad, rice cakes and bottled water. maybe it is fresh orange, bursting with juice, dripping down your chin. sticks of watermelon, swallowing the seeds, hoping you will grow. maybe it is indulgent, sweet, soaked in serotonin. maybe it is cheesecake, lemon, handmade with fresh cream cheese and a chocolate biscuit base. whipped cream on the side. smiles we are unable to hide. overly energetic hiccups from eating sushi too quickly. 

maybe healing doesn’t look like pilates. or avocado smoothies. sweating collarbones and yoga mats and bones worn thin. maybe it is dancing. spinning. winning. singing. maybe it is daydreaming. believing. open-hearted feelings. maybe it is a sacred pen, in the hand of a scared girl, letting thoughts unfurl. maybe it is slow-dancing on bubble wrap. feeling love and protecting that. maybe it is finally scrubbing the decay from your teeth and learning you deserve to be clean. 

maybe healing doesn’t smell like candles. or lavender. eucalyptus and rosemary and herbal tea. maybe it isn’t flowers. or freshly baked bread. maybe it is a spring sun at six in the morning. the end of the darkness, the start of the dawning. maybe it is sweat-soaked foreheads after a wonderfully up-beat song. a chocolate egg. a vial of perfume you once never used. 

maybe healing is not something you must reach for. maybe it is here. maybe you can touch it. maybe you can hold it in your palms. maybe it is something you have held all along. maybe it is lacing fingers between your own. maybe it is finding refuge in your home. maybe it is all the love you’ve ever shown. 

maybe, you are healing. maybe you always were.