She begs the sun to bleach her brain
Too many diseases, disorders
Too much hatred and grief
She endures with them

Their trauma cuts into her green aura
Slices her past open through the bolted door
Rusty locks and cracked timber

She feels cold feet on dirty soil
The dampness of moss infested walls 
The mind torturing plop of the dripping tap
How her porcelain face longs for the gentle sun

Her world is split into two
She is the bridge, the hand 
to carry them from then to now
she resists the grip of the past
"Hold on to the warm sun" she whispers

Before her eyes
The dark shadows, dim cellar, cold winter 
fading and peeling off like chalk drawings

She begs the sun to bleach her brain
laying golden shimmers on canvas
filled with light and warmth

I wonder

we don’t see people
we see our opinions
through people

she looks so thin
she is an anorexic

he has no front teeth
he is an addict

she has been diagnosed with
nasal cavity cancer
what do you expect
she is a chain smoker

he lost the custody of
his children
why are you so surprised
he is a drunk

when we are confronted with matters
beyond our own experience
or understanding
it is easier to
pose judgement or
be clinical about it

is that being helpful

wouldn’t it be more logical
to take it at face value
and empathise with the person