Wednesday, January 29, 2014

A Poem

Sometimes we hold onto our pain because it’s the only thing that can assure us that we’re still alive.
You try to sympathize, say “I know how you feel” and think that you can rip our pain away.
Just like that.
But we hold on tight and wrap it around us like solid iron armor and we weld it to our flesh because it’s ours.
It’s all we know.
You can’t take it from us.
Not unless you can give us something else to hold onto. Because without it, we’ll be naked, without it we won’t even recognize ourselves anymore because the pain was more than our mask.
It was our face.
If you remove a knife from a deep wound, it will bleed. You have to cover it up with a bandage, something to soak up some of the blood and to hold the rest in.
Pain leaves wounds like that.
So suture the skin closed because without the thread it could not pull the gap back together and it would never heal. The body can repair itself but it needs time.
So does a heart.


  1. You should write more often. This is great!

  2. Very vivid. I'd love to hear it spoken.