The Tenderest Wound
She softens into her chair, allowing the anxiety to sift through her like sand and settle into the supportive ground. With one hand on her chest and another on her belly, she senses into those spaces with a single inquiry— "How is it in there?"
Then she listens.
The clenching in her chest and tight ball within her heart-gut begin to speak to her as sensations and images. What has felt like anger and deep resentment is showing itself as the oldest, tenderest wound. It is a sorrow deep in the root of her pelvis— throbbing, aching, begging for some attention.
"How would you like me to be with you?" she asks. The answer surprises her, eliciting a trickle of tears down her cheeks. This oldest, most tender wound wishes to be swaddled and held, to be cared for and loved like a newborn. Tenderly, she holds her belly and weeps.