Hurt

is abandoning yourself
and expecting someone else
to adopt
the poor,
abused,
pitiful,
emaciated
and wailing child
on the sidewalk
who is only visible
to you,
and being furious
because no one
even looks
at the empty sidewalk,
and no one
takes the child,
whose cries rend your flesh,
away
from you.

Hurt

is
living
like you are
the wound
made flesh,
seeing every person around you
through the frightened eyes
of an abandoned child,
looking for your mother
in every single face –
and when
no one
meets your eyes
and sees you,
and loves you,
you grieve
every
fresh abandonment
like it is the original wound,
not realizing that
you are the only one
who can
bring the child
home
and yours is
the only hand
that can offer
healing.