Trying to let the Healer do His work.

Slow, promised healing
©8-29-12 Hannah McLean

The wounds are still fresh
I know it when the slightest
confrontation of the loss of him
brushes against my heart
and my walls come up
in an awkward, hurried fashion
that leave me feeling
as though I am in a hardened glaze
unable to receive or give

What am I to do
when the wounds are still raw
and uninvited pressure inflames
the pain and bypasses what numbed
as i grimace my way
through the jarring bumps
ignorantly surprised by how easily
I bruise
or maybe by how deep the bruises truly are

The wounds are still fresh
borne through the flesh
and penetrating into the depth
of my heart and soul
healing is slow, but promised

And as I wait expectantly
while walking through each day’s unknowns
I will carefully take down my
awkward, hurried walls
that when I reach the
moments when the wounds have healed
I will be soft and whole
not cemented beneath a hardened glaze
of faulty security