It was,
like an old friend at a high school reunion,
unrecognizable at first.
Those I love
had assured me
that it existed.
And so,
day
after
day,
I trusted the rituals I knew
would save me.
I walked
the treads of my shoes smooth.
Wrote in my journal,
crying myself dry.
Surrounded the tub with candles
And soaked my deadened soul.
I trusted the process. Believed,
even when
I had no faith.
And then, joy made its way to me,
held my hand,
and asked me to dance.
