wounds...ramblings

as i was on my way to work, on the bus, my eyes hiding on the thick retro shades i'm wearing, a sense of epiphany touched my sight...

i find it rather overwhelmingly funny, sadly quiet. for some semblance of understanding to come...how my life, in the past few days, in the past few weeks, in the recent months could be summed by the wound on my knee - which is on its healing stage, by the way.

the wound which i have incurred the past week.
the wound which has caused me so much pain, the pain numbing my leg, reduced my walk to a hobble and now, as it heals, is fastly-growing a scar which is not exactly the prettiest sight to behold.

at the onset, i sought medical attention. it was cleansed and nursed with antiseptics, which has bit and stung my skin a little too much, and all i could do was whimper.

the days which followed was no less horrible.
i walked with a funny limp. to bend was a major suffering. to descend was excruciating, in as much as going up using the stairs was a pain worth a thousand scourges.
it was a struggle.
heck, even taking a bath is a major effort.

the wound on my knee simply commanded attention like no other.

i took heed to its demand, trying to sit, walk, stand up, lie down in the most comfortable way i could manage. hoping that it would heal fast. dry up soon, so that i could walk and hop and stride the way i used to.

but then i came to be re-oriented.

healings could not be hurried.
it takes time. one has to get used to the spurts of pain inflicted.

when i fell on my knees on that particular balmy morning, the metaphor was unclear. albeit, i was unmindful of the hurt at first.

it was only this morning that i came to know, how falling on one's knees could hold meaning at various points in my life...the revealation shuttling between two dimensions that has left me, both in awe and humbled.

my fall on that pavement was pretty much like getting my heart crushed and beaten to a pulp.
getting my heart broken is similar to a knee grazed deeply - lacerated from all directions, bleeding.

in accepting a relationship that has gone awry, thoughts raced to a fleeting healing.
but one could only hope so much. pine for forgetting in an instant, is seeking a miracle.

the great Neruda could not have phrased it better:

"Falling in love is easy, it is in forgetting that we face oblivion."

Amen I say to that. And my healing, my forgetting, is set to embrace oblivion.

Time became both an ally and a foe at the same time.

Days would crawl and seconds would yawn at me, feigning healing adieu.
at the same time, giving me assurance, that tomorrow would be a better day.
but then, that's walking on the hems of sunshine....well, that's a bit part of me that hasn't been singed. walking on hope's fine lines, aching to burn some wind's caress soon.

my wound's almost healed. save for the part wherein the joint is shrouded by flesh and is always being bent. the caked skin is already itching to flake off, but the skin underneath remains tender.

soon it will.

and so will my heart.

for now, it demands less fuss - both, the wound and this fragile lump of tissues inside my chest.

though both palpitates with aching, somehow, i know i will be okay soon.

i could soon walk, hop, stride and perhaps leap the way i used to.
this time, just a tad careful, but nevertheless carefree.

now, how conflicting that could be?!!!

spell irony, that's me.