The Wounding

sorrows engulf me like a
black heavy cloak until I
can no longer see
the trees the sky the day -
I am borne away on
wings and raucous cryings -
the burden hard and heavy
the regret clinging to me
like mud: did I do
my best? what else was there
to do? could I have done
more? does it matter?
who will see now and
who saw then my deeds so
heavily borne? is there an
atonement coming
or is it already here?
Why do I wear
them to me like medals
unwon, my mind
fingering and fingering
the pieces
in pain
until the turning and the
turning of the palm
salves nothing
solves nothing
and only maims?
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