As the wound continues - then so does the healing . . .
Lifting the scab sharply,
I walk out of the room.
The wound is open again -
A gaping hole for everyone.
It's not just mine I know,
But someone had to prize the lid.
Festering away beneath the cover -
All sorts of unmentionables.
Now we all begin to dig -
Firstly at each other.
"You hurt me - I hate you!"
"I don't want to see you."
"Leave me to my soothing tongue -
Keep away from me!"
Fearful of deep cleansing;
(Already it smarts too much;)
Afraid to examine the details,
In case they should prove fatal.
"How long, oh God", we pray,
"Before we feel Your healing touch?
"How can the world be this bad?
And why does my brother keep hurting me?"
"Children - just keep digging."
A softer voice is heard.
"The pearl you seek lies hidden
In the festering layers of puss;
And each of you shall find it,
When you're ready to serve one another"
.
wow. sad in its truth, at least most of the time. but it makes the other time so wow.