Window Sill

She looks out the window at nothing in particular,

Just a blank stare.

It's as if she's frozen,

Stuck to the couch,

Unable to move,

And the window provides some sort of safety.

A home base to settle into as the crippling fear rushes into her head and announces its takeover.

Her eyes start to fixate on the branches of the bush outside,

Just beneath the windowsill.

Not much of it can be seen from where she sits within the house,

Just the top of a branch as it sways in the wind.

The branch comes in and out of frame,

Sometimes moving without its windblown rhythm,

But it's so beautiful just the same.

Such a calming sight,

The way the light from the sun bounces around the branch is so magical.

Watching the play of shadows is like medicine,

Soothing her nervous system with its shimmering display.

That simple beauty is all there is.

That meaningless movement is so perfect,

The mystical within the ordinary.

She starts to sense a warming in her heart and her frozen state begins to melt a little.

The familiar feeling of calm washes back over her and starts to fill up the spaces deep within.

She hears that soft,

Soothing voice in her heart say,

You're okay.

You always were and you always will be.

You are still safe and everything is just the way it should be.

She takes a deep breath and she rises to her feet.