Suture - Apr 25
The subtle thread which mends a laceration
is woven through fresh, tender flesh to bind
disreconciled horizons, disentwined
by words sharper than the knives of damnation.
Then, even once that painful separation
is closed, there’s still so much left to attend
to,—wash the wound, put bandages, amend
echoes saddled with righteous indignation.
A stitch is but the means of tying tight
the gasping gash; but time alone can heal
the skin which suffers the ego’s trauma.—
Slow bonds, forming from the wrecks of the drama,
will join again disjointed sides, and seal
the split. The scar will long remain for sight.
Copyright © X F Lacasse | Year Posted 2025
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