She made

I met her at a point when I thought that nothing could abate the pain pricking my sides.

She made me see the light where I saw only, only darkness.

She held my head so as to face it.

She made me remember what I had forgotten.

She made me smile and laugh because I had forgotten the sound of my own voice.

I had to listen again to the sound of the wind in the reeds to know the sound.

She made me breathe again in the open air.

She opened a rend in the clouds to make me feel the rain.

She made me whole, again, and see the colours of the sky at the break of day.

She tore the crust off a loaf of bread, and handed it to me. Instinctively, I munched it between my molars. This I had forgotten too.

She was there when I wasn't anymore, and understood that I couldn't dwell amongst the everyday.

She made me realise the everyday was where I had to be to understand.

So there I went, heavy of heart and with a sore soul. I struggled and came out, after what seems aeons of buffets and sighs, victorious, amongst the living.

She made me ride unknown storms and stand upon the wreck of the bloody plains, beholding.

I couldn't have done any of these things I take pride in without her.

She made me find the strength whilst having none.

She made me try with all my heart, made me see what I could, made me, made me.

Curved hills and levelled mountains to do so.

If only I had met her.