This poem was written when something very rare happened. I came to a decision, and Father David’s sermon echoed both my decision and the reason I took it. I swear he was telepathic when he wrote that homily.

I have struggled almost daily in the past nine years, trying to readjust to all the events, and work out how to carry on. Sometimes, I feel nothing has changed, but when I do, I am running from the truth.

Those events fundamentally changed me, the pain of watching others suffer wounded me. I am more shattered and broken than I ever imagined I could be. What I have to try and do, and this will take the rest of my life, is accept that I’m not the same. I need to accept my woundedness and brokenness and learn to move on through life. For the wounds and brokenness are painful, but not fatal, and I will survive and learn and grow, as I did before

So, without any further ado, here is the poem

Come, Wounded One

Come, wounded one,
Let me heal you,
Let my love seduce you
Lead you to a quiet place
To make you whole

The world
Wounds you
With a thousand
Tiny cuts
Each one
Deeper
Than the last

Do you know
Your beauty shines
My heart rejoices
In you
My child

When the world
Works its way
Into a weary heart
Remember I am
And who you are

Nothing else
Need concern you
Come away
And rest
In me
And we will be
One