Beneath the Ice

"I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself up in a little world of one's own, with pictures and music and everything beautiful".  Virginia Woolf

I am a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). This means my emotional system reacts deeply and can easily become overwhelmed. My internal alarm is sharp, and when I am criticised, especially when the criticism feels unfair, it can shake my confidence profoundly. Writing helps me process these feelings, so here is a poem born from that experience.

Beneath the ice

My cry is blue
like threads of sorrow woven through
the curtains of my mind,
hiding my peace.

At first, I felt untouchable,
but someone wiped away my security
with one harsh swipe
scratching sharp words
into my being,
raking their fingers
across the strings of my heart,
like claws on a chalkboard.

Unfair criticism
again and again.

But then a voice whispered:
It is not about you.
You are the stream
beneath the sheet of ice,
unseen by the eye,
still flowing toward the light.

Your warmth will break the ice.
You will answer with kindness.

The wind will dress you
in a cloak of invincibility,
and the air will hum a song.
The earth glowing
just a little more
than before.