It’s winter in my heart. A lonely, barren, cold place today. I search inside of me for signs of life, but the sun hasn’t shone here for days, weeks maybe and the bulbs of my heart are holding tightly to the dark, wet dirt of my soul.
The wind blows across my heart like sand across the desert, swirling lifelessly and floating with the air that encircles it, taking it and spreading it to and fro.
There’s a chill in the air, an ache like death inside of me, an emptiness that even time may not heal.
My heart is heavy and full and there’s a weight on it, a burden I bear right now. The cancer has been removed but in the process, something bigger has been taken from me too. It’s not only physical, it’s something more than tissue and skin. It’s like a piece of my soul has been ripped from my body. It’s like the death eaters have come and sucked life from my very bones, and I feel weary and faint from my encounter with death. It drank of the life within me and I felt the oxygen seep from my lungs and I, as my last breath was near, awoke.
Only now, it feels like part of me is missing, something inside me gone. A yearning, a clinging to, a hope while nearly gone in an instant, is still sparsely there, and yet a small spark in the distance may just be enough to catch it and burn again as the days roll by. A small ember of hope looms quietly in the distance, waiting patiently for the wind to blow across it, so that once again it might rage and burn. But for now, it will lie quietly in hopes of a fresh wind to come soon.