Along Some Time. Poem by Amina Allaf

I did not know how to walk, how to reach home
i thought about sinking my head in my pillow
and cry, cry to get out the overdosed amount of salt, i
cannot bear the turbulent sea in my hidden nature.
the paces changed to strides, the beats of my small
red flesh became throbs.Nothing was able to soften
the sudden collide which i got that day.
To be honest, in front all the stabs i recieved i did not
look for a nurse to cure me, to stop my bleeding purple
blood.
wisdom the refuge of the healers, the compassionate
after the aftermath, was a the balm to my firing wounds.
Time is the best healer, really, time and the fresh air were
my unique impartial fellows.
thank you tic tac, thank you white noise..