Familiar

Dreaded beating of the heart.
Breathless moments.
Basics of life; too difficult to function.
Facilitating death of the soul.
They attempt CPR.
Throw help in the form of divine light.
And her name hovers in the hostile air.
As the bitter taste approaches,
Familiarity edges forward.
Remembering the pain.
The inner ache.
And she asks,
“How did I get here again?”
Life mapped to avoid this detour.
Yet she returned to the spot.
The spot where it all happened.
Where traumas never die and life never prospers.
Maybe it isn’t a place.
But more like the weather.
And just like the weather it will pass.

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