We are the wounded.
We are the ones whose histories have been rewritten,
critiqued and re-configured,
pushed through the grids of others—
those who think they only see clearly,
those who see themselves as somehow in control of perception,
of truth.
We are the wounded.
We are those who bleed from the strikes of accusers, as well as
from self-inflicted gashes
from poor judgment and bad choices.
And here we stand, geared up for a marathon, but crippled,
expected to push on to the winners’ circle, but wounded—in need
of another to carry us.
And He was wounded . . .
