Hidden wound

A Poem by Shandra Sun

We are carriors of many stories. Sometimes not our own...

Hidden between the empty spaces of my being,

live this dark old pain I gained,

even before I was born.

There, where I grew from a cell,

was an unsafe place,

with storms of sobbing and tears,

shaking my vulnerable body,

in a anguishing embrace.

And long before words got a meaning,

before someone could explain,

I knew...what it means to be in pain.

Born with this invisible wound,

like a stigma engraved in my soul,

I see it now and then coming alive,

spreding its shadow of despair...everywhere...

I've been the carrier of my mother's suffering, without knowing it.

It was not mine!

I just hosted it, as a lost wanderer and gave it a home inside.

How can I release those crystalized tears, so interwoven in My Self?

Would I still be me, without it?

Would I finally be free?

... ... ...

Let it live... as a lonely creature needing a refuge.

I know now...

it is not me.

© 2012 Shandra Sun

Author's Note

Do you ever ask yourself where the pain comes from?

My Review

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Reviews

The red thread of a bound that can't be cut....
The pain of another you feel, and formed you
I feel with you in this pain, I can tell.
To see and embrace it dearly makes release
And give it a place, so there is strength and growth
for thee own.

Thank you Shandra.
Lovely honest write.

E.L.