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the sharing of one's heart and soul ain't no door mat it is an instrument a tuning fork -- at times, a power tool that destroys and builts a sadness in a voice may linger for a time the same voice leaves a trail of laughter, of smiles in his or her sharing i a survivor of two men molesting me at a young age i a healer of self from the age of thirty who stumble and keep going so many others like me with different faces, skin, circumstances, but they survivors and healers strong and courageous could've turned cold and heart hardened but tears flow, smiles emerge like rainy days into sunny skies that coax those staying inside to come and enjoy the warmth and beauty of a brand new day the healing is shown in the listening to others, compassion for self, and the refusal to take out one's blues on others who were not present during horrible acts, but who are people who crossed the path with the intent to go with the flow after the rain the sun does shine again without and within