I sit with affective empathy in my office and cradle my coffee while lost in a mosaic of fractured reflections from the storm in the mind of the person across the desk from me

watching out the slightly open window as a petulant child tugs on the hem of her mother’s patience, and hearing her every sigh; reminding me of stone casting stones to skim the surface

Internally I observe my own  laughter that masks the pain of daily unhealed wounds suppressing my anger which easily flares like a match sparking light in midnights darkness

It’s not about me , I mentally whisper to myself ,as if the coffee  knows the heat of unexpressed longing and the quiet terror of isolation

Always mind your surroundings and those there about; Learn the language of their silence,the grammar of their gestures,the way a smile can break then cut like broken glass

listen intently yet naturally to how a voice can tremble with the weight of unspoken thoughts and feelings coupled with emotions and actions

Too many times their words cannot be trusted, cannot be trusted, cannot be trusted