As the wounds are revealed and reflection sets in, one looks at hand carved stones that were buried under the dirty skin long ago. Dirty skin does not mean tainted or untouchable, it’s a piece of our beings that harbors the long traveled roads of our gravelled past. The past of which each of us carries is as true as the ground we place our feet on each morning.
There are times those stones from the past feel a little heavier now and again, but with time they start to become slightly less edgier and more smooth to the touch. The smoothness placed there by gentle hands of understanding like the coolness of river water as it gently carries these burdens downstream. The boats which carry the souls through this pathway are laden with repaired hole after repaired hole, and sometimes the repairs come slower than the holes. It is covered in the way an apprentice’s hands mends something that’s not quite right. It may not look the same after its moment of break, but it is not destroyed to the point of unliving. Without the holes the boat would be untouched, and by being untouched it has not lived, and without living it could not understand and carry the weight that so often bares heaviness.
Eventually, and in it’s own time, the heaviness will be less and the fiery rebirth of a phoenix will occur. Her feathers may be clipped in places not seen by the common eye, but her spirit will be felt by those who understand, and it will be on the breath and wind of this understanding that her wings shall lift her higher than she’s ever been.