Seeped Into Bone

I used to lean in, heart open wide,
To stories of sorrow, of battles inside.
A beacon, a harbor where hearts could unmoor,
A refuge for souls battered, weary, and sore.

But sorrow, like rain, can erode even stone,
Day after day, seeped into bone.
I once felt their grief like a knife in my chest,
Now numbness grows stronger; and my soul craves rest.

The tears I once took on, now pool at my feet,
Their cries all blend together – a dull, endless beat.
I nod and I listen, my face a kind mask,
But the fire that once burned? No longer up to the task.

Their heartbreaks are chapters I’ve read far too long,
Their choruses of suffering – well-worn songs.
Their traumas now echoes, faint whispers of pain,
I’ve grown deaf to their thunder, immune to their rain.

I’ve heard of the boy who lost all to the flood,
The mother whose hands couldn’t staunch the crimson red blood,
The soldier who wakes with a scream in his breath –
A parade of dark stories marching on towards death.

I wanted to heal them, to carry their load,
But somewhere I faltered, broke along the road.
I can’t mend the pieces of hearts when my own
Is a hollowed-out cave where light once shown.

Empathy a river that’s run itself dry,
A cup I kept pouring with no tears left to cry.
And now I’m adrift, just a shell at the shore –
A counselor of sorrow who struggles to feel anymore.

But still, a whisper, a flicker, a spark,
A memory that lingers somewhere in this dark:
That healing is human, a burden we all share,
A journey of hope, as breath becomes air.

So I’ll sit in their silence and hold what I can,
A weary, worn vessel – this shell of a man.
Perhaps I’ll remember, perhaps I’ll relearn
How to soften my heart and let empathy return.