Spring Healing

A wound trying to heal. I pick at grief, like a child digs at a scab. I'm leaving a dark dance that winds into a night that never ends. A dance where pain circles, and weaves it's seeds into a hilly landscape, that lives behind my eyes. Memories of tangled beauty like silken grass knot in the breath of the wind. I pull and I push. Like Chinese handcuffs, I won't let go. Dusk lights a path that beckons me to follow to a darkness so deep I know it would blind me. Lost, I listen for dawn. A bath of morning light so lovely, so caring washes over me. Shines while I trace the path of where I've danced. A trail of fading steps, pale bruises imprinted lightly on the tender earth. In the wind I now hear music. It's a beautiful song I hum while I watch a scar grow fainter.