You ask me if I’m alright ...
I am alright, but the stabbing ache in my heart is not alright.
You ask me if I’m ok ...
I am ok, but the stranglehold of despair around my throat is not ok
You ask me if I’m fine ...
I am fine, but the icy grip of fear in my soul is not fine.
I need to remove the steely shards from my heart, one piercing sliver at a time;
Even if a hole, an abysmal gorge remains, I can learn to fill it with other things, better things.
I need to loosen the malevolent grip of hopelessness, one hoary, gnarled finger at a time;
And learn to open myself up to the comfort of a quiet, gentle embrace.
I need to thaw the icicles of dread, one knifelike lance at a time;
and learn to warm my soul with the simple heat of being alive.
I know that I need to learn to separate my angst from my being; learn to put the wretchedness to bed
So that every so often, I am able to feel whole, happy and free.
And so my friend, when you ask me if I am well
I say I am well, because I’m learning to take care of the most fragile parts of myself.
I will be alright; I will be fine; I will be ok