The Soul has Bandaged moments —/ When too appalled to stir —/ She feels some ghastly Fright come up/ And stop to look at her —// Salute her — with long fingers —/ Caress her freezing hair —/ Sip, Goblin, from the very lips/ The Lover — hovered — o’er —/ Unworthy, that a thought so mean/ Accost a Theme — so — fair —// The soul has moments of Escape —/ When bursting all the doors —/ She dances like a Bomb, abroad,/ And swings upon the Hours,// As do the Bee — delirious borne — Long Dungeoned from his Rose—/ Touch Liberty — then know no more, But Noon, and Paradise —// The Soul’s retaken moments —/ When, Felon led along, With shackles on the plumed feet,/ And staples, in the Song,// The Horror welcome her, again,/ These, are not brayed of Tongue —

Emily Dickinson

I have heard it suggested that our wounds can be our superpowers. If our wounds can be our superpowers, then the bandaged moments of our Soul are the moments when Fright comes — saluting, caressing, hovering — and the Soul chooses to retake the moments and move toward Liberty, Noon, and Paradise. Our capacity to choose Liberty, Noon, and Paradise in the face of Fright is our superpower. Fright comes and the Soul bursts and dances and swings. The Soul moves forth fueled by imagination, courage, and knowing.