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Sometimes, in our journey of healing and growth, we might look back and feel a pang of frustration. It can seem like we’re revisiting the same old challenges, wrestling with similar emotions, or facing familiar patterns. We yearn for a clear, upward trajectory, a definitive “over it” moment.

But what if these returns aren’t regressions? What if they’re not signs of failure, but rather opportunities to revisit familiar territory with new wisdom, a broader perspective, and a stronger self? What if healing isn’t a straight climb, but a series of spiral steps? This poem explores that very idea – that each turn, each re-encounter, lifts us to a higher understanding, even if the landscape looks familiar below.

Spiral Steps

The path unwinds, a coil in slow ascent,
Not always upward, where my hopes are bent.
Sometimes I trace a circle I once knew,
The same old vista, bathed in older dew.
A pang of thought, a shadow I recall,
And wonder if I’ve moved at all.

I see the same old tree, the weathered stone,
The places where my earlier self had known
A specific sorrow, or a stubborn fear,
And feel the whisper of its presence near.
My heart might quicken, or my breath may catch,
As if the past stands ready for a snatch.

But then I pause, and breathe the air anew,
And notice details, vibrant, fresh, and true.
The tree has deeper roots, the stone more worn,
And in my gaze, a quiet strength is born.
The fear returns, but now a smaller shade,
A fleeting echo, subtly remade.

For though the view seems kindred to the past,
My footing’s surer, built to truly last.
The old emotion, though it comes to call,
No longer holds my spirit in its thrall.
I stand taller on this curve, a little wise,
With clearer vision in my opened eyes.

Each time the spiral brings me round again,
To face a challenge, or a familiar pain,
I find a deeper layer I can peel,
A hidden lesson, showing me what’s real.
It’s not regression, but a gentle turn,
More fully knowing what my soul must learn.

The landscape below, it shifts and redefines,
Reflecting strength in subtle, flowing lines.
I see the journey, not a broken thread,
But graceful curves where honest tears were shed.
And with each step upon this winding stair,
I carry less, and breathe in purer air.

So let the path weave, let the shadows play,
For I am moving, in my own unique way.
Not just ahead, but deeper, and more whole,
Embracing every spiral of my soul.
Each twist and turn, a purpose understood,
Healing’s rhythm, misunderstood.