Sometimes we have to hurt.

We hurt to see how much we can handle

before our screams muffled by our pride are truly heard.

We hurt to see the pieces of our lives shattered before us

to quantify what it takes to make us whole.

We hurt to see who will come after us

even when we ourselves gave up looking a long time ago.

 

The thing about being hurt

is that we can feel simple gestures resonate throughout our bones,

our bones that have been hollowed out by memories of happier times

decayed down to absolutely nothing.

Salty cheeks caressed by the warmth of lovers’ hands,

friends protecting hearts bruised with the color of the galaxy;

you see this,

this is why we can stand back in awe.

 

We paint hurt, like blood, above our doorsteps

in hopes of anyone we know,

maybe even God,

passing over our painful thoughts.

But what is truly awe-inspiring

is how humans help each other despite the ugly hurt decorating our skin.

 

When we do have the confidence to speak our minds,

there are people who do not count the seconds before we stop talking,

but rather listen to what we say.

They do not mind the long pauses between our sentences

because they know it takes time to string words of chaos together.

Empathy is not part of the human condition.

It is being unconditional that is part of the human condition.

 

It is easy to get lost

in the tangles of our own torture, but

the opportunity to emerge

from that mess is there for those who actively seek it,

for those who need to feel hurt dissipate.