Running away

I used to think that running away was bad.
But in each and everyone of us, there is a little voice that is so fragile.
It is the little boy or girl that never grows up too, like Peter Pan.
To harvest the wisdom of that voice that calls out for attention, for love, for acceptance, for a hug.
Again and again, as if the child inside will never grow out of that longing and need to be assured and soothed.
But, that is just the way we are, going forth and back, resting in the voices that calls for attention to regain perspective and strength to go on again.
We gather up the bits and pieces that we get and often thinking that is not going to last us.
Embracing our broken pieces, shattered memories, loneliness, fears, we move on.
We cannot erase our experiences whether good or bad, we can only say so little yet not be discouraged, and not be too great that we cannot be filled.
Our strength in gathering up and moving on, falling, getting up and trying again.
We walk with our wounds and scars, yet never loose hope.
We carry the vessels that has been given and ask to be held again and again.
Till we meet our maker, the source of all things.