Healing doesn’t happen all at once.
Sexual trauma runs too deep,
is much too complex for simple remedies.
We have no Star Trek sickbay
or magic tricorder
to bind up the wounds,
erase the battle scars.
And would we want to if we could?
Would we walk away,
pretend it never happened,
we were never assaulted
violated… hated… berated…
made to feel shame and doubt?
Could we ignore the very truth of what we
know was wrong… evil… the vilest of all?
Could we simply walk away
and cease to bear witness
for those who come after?
Or maybe for those violated before
our own innocence was vanquished
but are yet to heal at all?
If we could be healed completely
in an instant, in the blink
of a selfish, knowing eye…
But to do so meant leaving
our sisters, our friends,
our daughters, even strangers,
without the hope of #MeToo?
Could we? Should we?
Because to heal 100 percent
I think is to forget every ounce,
every moment, of
the pain and struggle.
And to forget is to lose compassion.
So perhaps it is worth the
ups and downs of scars
that appear healed but sometimes,
more often than we’d like, bleed tears
of understanding helping others
feel not so alone.
Often I pray for complete healing.
For years I prayed to forget.
But then I remember that
without my wound
I am not me.
Without my wound,
the scarring of my heart and soul,
I am powerless.
