When we grow up, how do we learn to see one another?
Do we even learn this thing?
How to identify the shapes and whorls of another’s soul,
To see through the light to the shadow beneath,
To look for wounds that can be healed, and identify others that cannot?
When do we learn how to clean and dress the wounds that have festered?
Who teaches us to have a gentle hand,
To listen to the breath and watch the body for the signs of distress,
To see beneath, into the diseased skin of our trauma, and help each other heal?
To give one another what we can, in fullness and with love?