On a crowded commuter train,
the tattoo on a woman’s forearm peeks from her sleeve
as she grips a steel handle and steadies herself:
Four teardrops, four semi-ellipses,
a small circle in the middle.
The dot in the center is right now.
Right now, the tattoo is still healing.
At first glance it looks fine
or even faded, as if it had been there for years
not days. Perhaps a relic of her youth,
a scar explained with a wistful anecdote.
(Two of the teardrops are the past)
No, the artful wound is fresh,
its milky dullness a fragile scab.
It needs deliberate care
gentle cleansing
a thin layer of unscented lotion.
It needs to breathe.
As it heals, the itch may become maddening.
You will be tempted to scratch and pick,
but if you are paying attention, you might instead
spend time with the itch, ask it questions,
try to breathe into the space between the nerve endings
where relief might exist.
(it might not,
but you won’t know unless)
Two of the teardrops are the future.
Life goes on while it heals
you do what you can
no matter what you do it will fade
eventually
becoming part of you,
aging with you.
It can be reinvented with you.
These (( )) are ripples
in water, earth,space, time
ribs, expanding and contracting with a breath
cascading effects and their causes
connections
Remember what is still healing and take care of it
Remember
The dot in the center is right now.
The symbol described in the poem and seen elsewhere on this site is a open source design created by Giedrius Cibulskis. It is not trademarked, non-sectarian, available for anyone to use. Learn more.