walking wounded

by Karen Georgia A. Thompson

“The wound is the place where light enters you” – Rumi

there is a resident brokenness that sits
quietly humming
yearning for attention
demanding to be seen

these broken places pool with fear
stagnant waters teeming with all that festers
bringing bitterness
lives fragmented, overflowing with despair

we limp along
walking sharp edges
on the borders of fertile grounds that call
yet we resist, afraid

and when we touch the darkness
we feel tiny slivers of light
we hear the music
we feel the emptiness and taste hope

17 July 2018
10:19 PM

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