Opening the old wound
A task not fit for Mondays
Or Friday nights or weekends
Or workdays or evenings.
Opening the old wound
Comes at still times
It hits at night, when
Finally quiet
You peel back the bandage.
Opening the old wound
Sheds the second skin
Protecting sore places
Which won’t heal.
Opening the old wound
To peer at raw flesh
Which still leaks
As if you haven’t spent
Night after night after night
Asking for it not to hurt.
Opening the old wound
A grief, a trap
A comfort
A witness to what you endured.
