“I am so thankful for you finding terms that are poetic instead of clinical which invite interest in these complex human stories instead of conclusions.”
Michael H., Residential Treatment Center Professional
“Such wonderful insights and beautifully written!”
Radeen S., Disability Support Professional, mother
Sophia’s Dance
She cannot be obtained;
she gives perspective easily lost.
Befriend humility,
and you grant her the room
to be alive with you.
Sophia cannot be easily spoken;
for each listener sits in a wax-sculpted seat of reception,
and every speaker rattles dark tongue-chains
forged by disintegral choices.
Poorly handled from the cosy above,
she arrives frequently in the gritty alongside.
Her touch comes in the patience and loneliness
of paths less prepared and less rewarded.
She brings together divisions thought permanent;
she divides unions seeming impenetrable.
She is ever ancient and newly born,
crystalized and fluid,
essential, foundational,
yet ready to break open, fall apart,
and run to places unseen and unexplored.
In great depths and heights her sight is obtained;
in the richness of the simple, the natural, the normal;
in the vastness of the tiny,
in the hunger of our universal need,
we are pointed to that
which includes and surpasses us;
and she is there.
Departing I see one side of her,
staying I see another,
retreating I can gain a peaceful detachment,
engaging I am lost in a new universe of finding;
and she is there.
The heart can give understanding
and can blind,
can grant intuitive leaps
and can seem a shadow world with no escape.
Sophia is not of the heart alone.
The mind conceives only portions
of her bounty and grace.
It breaks free from the flesh and is contorted by it.
Sophia loves the mind,
but she does not live there alone.
She can be a small tender mirror
to catch light from angles our eyes cannot see,
that in our glorious partiality
the unlimited can shine,
where there seems only an end.