Wounded Animal

I feel like a wounded animal.

I feel emotionally fragile.

I feel emotionally sensitive.

I feel emotionally vulnerable.

My wound may be small as a pinhead,

But it feels like a colossal mountain.

Even the gentle touch of a finger

Feels like a massive ton of bricks.

What do I need now?

I need. . .

. . . a gentle breeze, not hurricane winds.

. . . a light shower, not a downpour.

. . . the soft morning sun, not the harsh noonday sun.

. . . a placid flowing stream, not a roaring river.

. . . a soothing embrace, not a bear hug.

. . . soft words, not heavy critique

. . . a calmative presence, not a disturbing presence.

. . . a tender gaze, not judgmental looks.

. . . a selfless cuddle, not a narcissistic cuddle.

. . . a tepid shower, neither cold nor hot. 

. . . a silent presence, not a noisy presence.

. . . timeout, not being a busybody. 

. . . a light drink, not a heavy drink.

. . . a reflective stroll, not a hurried walk.

. . . a listening ear, not a talkative mouth.

. . . a band-aid, not stitches.

. . . calming words, not advice or counsel.

. . . someone’s heart, not their mind.

I am a wounded animal.

Needing a doctor for the heart,

To listen,

To listen to a wounded heart.

One thought on “Wounded Animal

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: