Where There is Heartache

Where there is heartache, the air hangs thick, a humidity of unshed tears. Silence isn't empty, it's a cavern echoing the hollowness carved out. The world outside continues, sun bleeds gold, birdsong insists, a stark, indifferent beauty. But within, a landscape reshaped, familiar contours blurred by the flood. Memories surface, unbidden, sharp edges softened by sorrow, yet still capable of slicing. Sleep offers no true escape, dreams twist familiar faces into masks of what was lost. The body remembers too, a persistent ache in the chest, a knot in the throat, a weariness that sleep cannot mend. Yet, even in this barren terrain, a fragile shoot might appear, the stubborn will to breathe, a flicker of resilience in the dust. For heartache, immense and consuming, holds within it the potential for a deeper understanding, a raw empathy, a slow, arduous climb back towards the light. It is a testament to what was loved, and a quiet promise of what might still be. ©bfa050825