I can’t touch it

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If a heart implodes deep within, breaking into smithereens in your chest, does it impact anyone?

If you cry an ocean of tears, but no one is there to witness it, is it healing?

If an email is sent to a therapist, and you’re not sure whether it gets distractedly skimmed or really read, should you feel heard?

If the person you so desperately need to derive support from is professionally bound to care during borrowed time against the backdrop of a ticking timer, do you dare let go and lean in to what sometimes feels so unnatural?

If she lives in your brain, and yet you don’t live in hers, do you dare let her support you in your mind?

If you need a hug desperately, and all you have are your own two hands resting upon your heart, is that an embrace?

If you long to be taken care of and you are figuratively “held” in a therapeutic space and then go on your (not-so) merry way, what does that even mean?

If there’s a little girl in you who is whispering all these sad little thoughts and the only way you can hold her is in your mind’s eye, can she even feel better?

If you yourself are your only tool for love, but you’re so, so tired, can you dare hope to heal?

Do you also ever feel that you need some tangible caring while you traverse the jagged terrain of your life?