thud

could there be anything left to get out of this?

when blindness follows so closely behind pain,

it gets difficult to get a grasp on what it all really

means. and then it all gets covered up.

like a new coat of paint.

to be freshly wounded again,

oh what a wish.

boundless attention and compassion

to the ripped-open and bloody

bodies that have not yet scarred over.

at the time they were still disoriented and covered.

excused.

poor victims of life. loved out of pity.

oh to be freshly wounded again,

to be thrown in the constant rush of change

the remarkable impossibility of it all

and the fact that it was undeniable,

oh so precious and new.

a new dense pall covers the moment now

and it does not move, it is heavy and presents itself as

permanent. it has evolved from grief and become a

gray acceptance that only slightly changes the look of things.

almost like nothing really happened in the first place.

how slowly will this change, and what will it become?

memories of

strangers still familiar, lined up to greet

the grieving faces with warmth and an

already fading understanding

who were quickly repelled by the pain with disgust and impatience

when they saw how long it takes to heal.

not their fault though,

their own fears were personified in the faces of the broken

and empathy, as it often does, became resentment,

they turned away to hide because they know

they will become what they are seeing

so they found ways to distance from the truth

just as the broken eventually did

when they realized that just like after an explosion,

the dust eventually settles

and everything goes on again

pretty much the same as before.

now several broken people wander shell-shocked

in the constant discovery that everything is permanent after it happens

and they have all in their own way, changed to fit the forced perspective,

both bonded through the unexpected and twisted

into selfishness and longing for some kind of feeling.

the dullness is throbbing and sucking the life out of everything

oh God, to be freshly wounded again,

to have something new to feel at all would be an incredible gift.