The Walking Wounded

If we could see the wounds we bear
that we have carried with us in this life,
we would see a trail of blood
and the red drips that hit the pavement
below us as we walk on.

We would see the holes in our hearts,
left there by the greedy takers
who abandoned us after they were done
taking the love we had to give.

We would see our faces awash in the tears
that we’ve shed year after year
from the loss, disappointment, heartache
and deceit we have been forced to bear.

We would see our hands,
left dried and callous
from the worried wringing
we have endured over the years.

We would see our feet,
the same feet that carried us
mile after mile
through this life of uncertainty,
blistered
because we trudged on dutifully.

We would see all the scars
left on our skin
from the accidents
and the not-so-accidents,
pieced together in a tapestry of pain.

We would see our backs,
broken down from years of abuse,
and from the time we’ve spent
carrying our own burdens.

We would see our tired minds
which have turned to mush;
tired from trying to make sense of it all.

We would see our eyes,
left hollowed and dazed
by the horrific sights
to which we have borne witness.

We would see our inner child
whose needs were never met,
but who continues to play,
naively and idealistically.

We would see our breasts,
no longer believing in the old adage,
‘hope springs eternal,’
for we have nearly given up.

If we could see the wounded,
we would see the sad souls
who have been left black and blue
by the beatings of this life,
but who continue to walk on
despite the hurt.

Written by Susan
Copyright 1999, All Rights Reserved

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