Staring at the Cut

Poetry 1 Minute

I stared at the bloody cut between my body and soul –
It is not a physical sort of pain,
This doomed wound,
It is the absence of being, the gap between, a hole,
Wound soundly around,
The very concept of what makes you whole.

Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Wound” as part of their Quadrille Series.

Published

28 thoughts on “Staring at the Cut”

    1. And excellent prompt! You fellows are so clever. I might disagree about the pain of that cut, however. The fact that you can’t feel those sorts of cuts is what makes it so much the deadlier, I think.

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    1. It draws to mind the idea of peeling away one’s soul. How would that feel, I wonder? Strangely, I doubt it would hurt. Thank you for your thoughtful commentary.

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    1. Thank you so much for your kind words! There’s an interesting aspect to wounds that cut through that thin membrane between your body and your soul.

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    1. Optimism is lovely, my recollections are often optimistic. The scars these wounds leave behind make for a fascinating story to tell.

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  8. I’ve heard of souls becoming disconnected from their bodies. Interestingly in a book I’m reading right now on drumming the author talks about how US society is suffering because of a loss of spirituality, which to me is very much linked to one’s soul. The author believes that getting immersed in the creative and performing arts — drumming in particular — can help with reviving/finding one’s soul/spirituality.

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    1. It’s all about purpose, right? The concept of the loss of one’s soul is quite interesting and certainly something I’ve played with creatively for years – but the prompt gave me a clever premise to run with the idea of metaphysical wounds that are both an absence of anything as well as the thing that contains meaning simultaneously. How very interesting!

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      1. I would say yes to the purpose if the purpose to to reconnect and banish that “nothingness” that steals the joy of life from us. I’m reading a really good book right now (not the drumming book, a different one) about a malaise that has taken over a whole village and is spreading across the land. It sounds a lot like what you’re talking about here. It’s a fascinating topic and I’m enjoying our discussion of it.

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    1. Do we? I have always had an obsession with my injuries. Touching to confirm they still hurt, noxiously curious about the color of my skin as it slowly heals, and then picking away at the scab to see what it looks like close up. Ugh. I suppose it is rather grown up of us to simply learn to live with the injuries now, but that’s sad in its own way, no?

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    1. Wounds feel physical to me, which then lead me to think about how weird that it. What hurts is the body around the injury – the wound itself is an absence. It takes you away from yourself.

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