She had known pain. Living with her like a constant companion. Sometimes nudging, often poking. Always reminding her of its presence.
The hurt ever-present. Over time festering in her heart, she would lance it like a boil. Easing out the poison stopping it traveling to her very soul. Concentrating on this familiar task helped her through another day.
The pain reminded her she was alive. Without it, dead. To the observer, she was a hamster on a wheel continuously moving, going nowhere, caught in a vicious cycle. That is how I remembered her.
Now returning to that place I see her vacant look gone. Replaced with shining eyes I’d never noticed before. Knowing instinctively what happened to the pain she carried. She’d had it sliced away, leaving a scar, and she wore it proudly on her face in the form of a crooked smile.
Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing All Rights Reserved Prosery Monday at D'Verse is hosted tonight by Sarah from SarahSouthwest. She has given us a line from a poem by Michael Donaghy. "She’d had it sliced away, leaving a scar" We are to use it in exact order in our piece of fiction of exactly 144 words.