Touching Wounds


Grief is a delicate balance
Between touching a wound just enough
To allow Yahweh to heal it
And going so far into it
That you find yourself weeping in a ball on the floor for weeks on end,
Between examining the hurt and the feelings of anger and betrayal
And letting bitterness and distrust grow,
It is a tightrope I walk daily,
And the tiniest things open wounds I didn’t even know were there
Until I feel the pus oozing out of this gaping hole in the pit of my heart,
Sickened by the feeling of this poison running through my veins,
But encouraged that the wound has been lanced
And the infection can be cleaned out
Progress is painful,
And allowing Yahweh to open wounds is frightening,
But today I am not on the floor,
And maybe that’s enough of a win.

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