Some days

Some days 
it feels like
she is the open wound
of the earth,
red raw and bleeding,
washed over and over
by the salty sting
of falling rain.

Cut, grazed and bruised
by a universal pain
that takes a child 
from its mother
or a father from his sons
before they have barely
begun
to talk about this life.

Some days
she doesn’t know how 
to stop 
the bleeding, or
tend the wound
or how 
to pretend anymore
it doesn’t hurt.

Some days
it is all she can do
to butter the bread
put on a smile,
fall into bed,
and practice being
grateful
for it all.

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3 responses to “Some days

  1. Straight to the heart, Shanee. I’m going through a time of days when I
    don’t know how to stop the bleeding, or tend the wound or how
    to pretend anymore it doesn’t hurt. Thank you.

  2. Oh how I know those days. Butter the bread. So glad you commented and led me here.

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