The Journey Inward

The only one who can see our pain,
Is the one walking toward us,
Not the one in front,
Nor the one behind,
Nor even the one by our side,
Though they walk in the same direction.

But what will the one walking toward us do
When they see our pain?
Will they walk on by, eyes straight ahead,
Or take a pretend call to avoid our hurt,
Or ask if we're okay while their feet keep moving?

Maybe they'll stop, ask what's wrong,
And offer a quick fix,
Or perhaps bestow us with some advice.

But maybe, just maybe,
The one walking toward us will take a deep breath,
Recognize the messiness that could ensue,
And stop.

And sit down beside us,
Not to cheer, distract or encourage,
But rather to witness our pain,
See us as we are,
And quietly share the moment,
Two people enduring pain instead of one alone.

And when the pain subsides, 
And the heartbreak comes down a notch,
Which it will,
Both will walk in their direction again,
Just as they were,
Yet not at all like they were.

Because the one in pain offered the service,
Of showing up authentically,
And the witness gave the service of companionship,
And maybe, just maybe,
They will pass that on,
And on,
Until humankind increases its tolerance for pain,
And its ability to support one another.