Am I the only one,
Who reads Attachment Theory science,
And sees faces they know
Reflected in the cold chrome ink?
A tortured face,
A double sided reflection of history,
Its truth, and its demons,
Following the path,
Even with the blades,
Scattered in the leaves in the dirt
Left, so we could cut the bruises out of history.
Others, walking among the unknown,
Rocks leave blood on bare feet,
Walking in the blackness of unknowable ways
But the tears of pain,
Are different than
Tears of hopelessness.
When I come back, to open another page,
I visit my family
hundreds of miles away.
But I keep reading,
Hoping to help someone walk through and away
from the world we know.