Old Wounds


My mum’s cat Leonardo.

I wrote this back in 2004. Except for fixed spelling errors, it’s the same. The piece represents a dark period in my life. One that hopefully will come full circle soon and but a blip in my history. I wasn’t strong enough to do what needed to be done then but boy have I become stronger. Never let anyone lessen your self-worth. EVER.


It hurt. The pain was unfathomable. Her heart lurched to her throat and threatened to straggle her beyond death. How could this happen? How could something so innocent shatter her hopes and dreams? She felt like the tide was raping her against the rocks.

For so long she had sit quietly, locked in a tower, her wings never spread out to fly with freedom. A closely guarded secret, kept by jealousy. Despair slowly crept in her veins. Her life was but a shadow, a glimmer of something if she was needed. Spread thin until she was transparent. A whisper in the wind she walked, doing what she thought was expected of her but always falling short.

Internal scars etched in her memory. Words flailed her flesh. Inadequate, uncaring. A failure. Bleeding without seeing red, she collapses to the floor. Her strength leaves and her life passes her by. It was all a dream. Reality is much crueler and continues to bear down on her even as she hugs the floor.

If she could blink past the tears maybe she would get a brief glimpse of hope but no. Hope has fled her and only despair caresses her wounded heart. Her wings are ripped from her body and she is told to fly. The door that barred her existence to the outside world dissolves before her eyes. Freedom but with a price for nothing has changed but the weather.

She holds her shattered life in her hands but the wind carries it away from her and darkness decends. With nothing to stem the flow, she wilts and whithers away but death will not claim her. Who will save this tortured soul? Even in the unending silence, there is laughter. Mocking and cruel. No one but yourself. No one but yourself.

Standing up she holds a small sliver of a dagger, the only thing left of her will. She staggers forward, her soul leeching out from the ever growing wound. Striking out at the one who placed the taint on her, her will rakes and the soul of another commingles with her own upon the ground. The swirling pattern bursts into being, two souls so close but never touching. Two souls who know each other but one of the windows is shattered.

With arrogance on a high pedestal, will the truth ever heal the eyes? Bond the two as one again? No. Deceit still walks hand in hand with one, its claw digging deep. The lesson left untaught. The heart will always be true to you but it also will betray. Tempation is near. Will you rebuke it?