Invisible, unseen—
each cut to the bone,
each sin unatoned.
Faded, yet never
gone…
hunting us… haunting us
surfacing like a stain
even when clouds disappear
and days render
clear.
Still, what is to be gained
by complaining?
Each is dealt a specific hand
—if you are still in the game
then you’re already winning.
Photo: C. Parant Appetite for Photos Used with Permission.
Sharing at with Hedgewitch over at Verse Escape for Friday 55.
