Revisiting

She said, “I think the psyche is a wasteland.”
I stared at her in shock, the revelation
hung over me and left me nearly speechless.
I saw the sorrows of a thousand souls
spread out across the landscape of her mind.
I nodded slowly. “Yes, I understand.”

But underneath apparent devastation,
life's hidden force can muster up the feature
of self-repair, to heal the gaping holes
with tender growth, until the tourist finds
no sign of the catastrophe that reigned:
old battlefields that blossoms have regained.