Trust. Mislead we were once. Twice, ten times… far too often.
Trust,
that every encounter is as tied to their experiences as yours.
And yet,
Bewildered ancient women dance the havoc,
Not trusting their sense.
Too often betrayed.
Their choice of ties remain with the untrustworthy.
The familiar cords.
Reassurance is a risk.
They write the word “reassurance” on a stone and place it far on the other side of the woods.
Carved down.
Carved down.