Somewhere Between the Rapture and the Rain…

We are, each of us, scarred—

sullied and carved

by jagged remnants

of nameless afflictions.

I will never judge

your scratches and flaws,

nor diminish what you’ve borne

with platitudes and empty words.

For what one sees is minimal,

barely a mar on the surface—
like an iceberg, the trauma

we've incurred sits deeper:

invisible to the naked eye

yet felt on the days

when the sun lies veiled

and old memories rise

to fester once more...
And yet, we survive —

despite our flaws,

or maybe, because of them.

I have felt your distance

as your thoughts turned inward

before focusing once again.

There’s beauty in your nakedness

where only truth remains

no need to cover up the welts,

nor pull away in shame.
Each one of us has a past,

so who can ferry blame?

You may not think I know you well,

but I understand the pain…

no one feels the sun’s sweet warmth

unless they’ve known the rain.

© Ginny Brannan 2017

Image Credit: Melanie Mercoglana Photography, Google Images