Tuesday, May 22, 2018

90 Days: The Axe Wound

There is a point in time when you forget you ever had a wound. It does happen - eventually -  and you can finally forget that you were ever injured and start to move on. Your body starts to move as it once did, your energy returns, the breath comes into your lungs and your joints move as they should and life becomes bearable under the knowledge that your are healing.

The scar will often be void of sensation. Whether this is a good thing, one can't say. It's one of the coping mechanisms.

Then there are wounds that never quite heal. They nearly do, then they open again, only to have to start the process again. The tissue does knit. The seeping nearly stops, but the hole never quite mends.

I have an old axe wound. A metaphorical one, yet it is a wound.

The seeping scar has been there for over twenty years. Probably nearer to twenty-five.

I remember the day I got it. It came from a shared secret after a day at work and a night on the beer. The secret was not intended to set the hatchet into me, bit it did. I didn't let on how badly I'd be injured. I'm good like that. Nobody had to see the axe that was sticking out of my chest. I've never been one to share my holes.

I hide the wound and the scar well for the most part.

Then something happens and the wound opens again. My innards are on display at the moment. There has been another swing of the axe. It's over the old wound so I feel like I've had some protection.

I'm numb to the pain for the moment.

It will heal. It will just take time.

And maybe some gin. And probably some tea and tears.

But mostly time.

Today's Song:

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