The Pain

A million small knives
tear my flesh
slowly, deliberately
pulling small bits
from the bone.
The pain is endless
and I watch
unable to move
held by the love
I once knew
and the hope it will return.

But it is over
and only I can turn
the small knives
into the wings
of angels
to kindly caress
my skin
and once again
make me whole.

November 1, 1997