Bowl-cut black hair,
Tremendous, curious eyes,
A normally happy disposition.
But she sports invisible wounds,
And she asks me,
“Why come? This is self flaggation.”

She speaks truth,
This is soul wrenching —
And maybe it is an addiction.
But there is a purpose
To these repeated visitations.

“We haven’t healed,
We are surrounded by love,
But shatter during disagreements.”
I pause and kneel —
“We are still haunted by our demons.”

So, we both say: “Can you come with me?
Let’s take a walk, breathe in
The trees, listen to the wind,
and talk about our life.”
And we remember
To be kind.