At the gates of my heart


Many times I am a crutch for the emotionally mutilated, people overwhelmed by pain and drama, solitude and emptiness. For a moment, they share that with me… they reach out with their arms, to save themselves from despair – and show me the insides of their soul – people I know for a lifetime, people I’ve never seen before. When solitude is too much, their heart’s cry of suffering is searching for me.

What do you see in me, grieving souls? Why do you come to me, when my voice is mute to your pain although I can fully feel it, when my arms have no embrace to offer, because they are afraid? What do you seek?

I have no words of consolation, I have no arms to catch you with.

The gates of my heart are half open, I don’t know whether to have them open or closed. If I hide inside, I am alone. If I come out, I am alone among people.

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