Cut Wide Open

The tearing wasn't neat, no surgeon's precise incision, but a raw, ragged edge, like fabric ripped by a sudden, brutal force. Air, thick and unfamiliar, rushed into spaces once sealed, private. Organs, usually shy and tucked away, now blinked in the harsh light, vulnerable, exposed. Words, once carefully chosen, now spilled out, a crimson tide, unfiltered, screaming truths the polite tongue had always held captive. The inside, a landscape never meant for viewing, pulsating with a frantic rhythm, a desperate plea for wholeness in the face of such stark division. There's a strange vulnerability here, a laying bare of the essential, the messy, beating core. No pretense can survive this kind of exposure. And perhaps, in this shocking openness, a fragile seed of something new might take root, a different kind of strength grown from being cut wide open. ©bfa041925