all bleeding ends eventually

I feel the blade
sliding into my belly

again and again.
Burning, screaming agony.

Gaping wounds

oozing dark red blood.

I watch, helpless,

as they multiply,

one after another.

But there is no blade in sight.

No one but me,

standing alone

in a field of ripe golden wheat

swaying in the wind.

I crumple to the ground,

the dirt between my fingers.

Blood spatters in the dust,

among the fallen seed heads.

The dream ends,

but still the pain increases.

I scream silently, biting my fist.

I writhe, curling into a ball,

my eyes watering,

my limbs trembling.

I can barely breathe.

“This too shall pass,”

I say it in my mind
again and again.

It reminds me of that other proverb:

“All bleeding ends eventually,

one way or another.”

The truth,

in counterpoint to the clichéd lie

that we are never given more

than we can handle.


2017-01-03