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A SUBTLE WOUND
You left me when my world
Was measured by a child's stride.
You had to go away for awhile,
I was told
To ease me into the truth:
You were gone
And not coming back.
It was involuntary, I know
Your leaving
But intent is not part
Of trauma's calculus
So I was not spared -
Though the wound went unnoticed:
There was no nervous response
Or reflexive recoil
As when you touch a hot pan.
It was subtle:
no bleeding, no blistered flesh.
Just a change in routine
And one less setting at the table.
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If you're interested, I recently published a book of poetry which is available on Amazon.com: My Mother Sleeps
Episode Cover Art by Ginny Rose Stewart on Unsplash