A Quiet Room Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A quiet room, a weary soul,
Fighting battles, making whole.
The body aches, the spirit sighs,
Beneath the gaze of knowing eyes.

No grand pronouncements, loud and clear,
Just whispered fears, held oh so dear.
A gentle hand, a listening ear,
Is what a healing heart holds near.

But shadows loom, of judgment's blight,
Where easy answers dim the light.
A tilted head, a knowing stare,
'I know the way, ' is often there.

This lonely road, a heavy load,
When empathy's a gift bestowed.
To walk beside, not lead the way,
To share the burden of the day.

And when the spirit seeks to mend,
To rise again, a truer friend,
No one should stand upon the shore,
While tides of change begin to roar.

For growing pains, and efforts made,
Deserve some kindness, unafraid.
To stand with grace, to understand,
And lend a helping, steady hand.