Cut Wide Open
The tearing wasn't neat,
no surgeon's precise incision,
but a raw, ragged edge,
like fabric ripped by a sudden,
brutal force.
Air, thick and unfamiliar,
rushed into spaces
once sealed, private.
Organs, usually shy and tucked away,
now blinked in the harsh light,
vulnerable, exposed.
Words, once carefully chosen,
now spilled out, a crimson tide,
unfiltered, screaming truths
the polite tongue had always
held captive.
The inside,
a landscape never meant for viewing,
pulsating with a frantic rhythm,
a desperate plea for wholeness
in the face of such stark division.
There's a strange vulnerability here,
a laying bare of the essential,
the messy, beating core.
No pretense can survive
this kind of exposure.
And perhaps,
in this shocking openness,
a fragile seed of something new
might take root,
a different kind of strength
grown from being
cut wide open.
©bfa041925
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