building fences with no offence 3

Every time I speak to connect, to unveil, to exchange my moments with those of another's, I run the risk of bringing pain, revealing other wounds that had been guarded. As much as it would be great to assume that I could be all harmonious and helpful, I can't. Even with those close to me, I never really understand the reasons for their heart sounds.
I will hurt people.
All the time, with no intention. Maybe a memory wanted to stay buckled down in a dark room, and a simple comment of mine pressed the sensor.
But I can desire to be somebody who doesn't harm. I can try to settle and soothe the damage I have caused,
if I have other eyes that see the pain, ears that hear the crying voices before I reject and run.
If I sit close enough to a heart that feels and remembers the past of all I reach out to.  If I remember to listen before I interrupt.