In the night. In the dark.

Some wounds go deep.  They burrow down and take root in the mud and mire of life’s little pains.

They are wounds that we glimpse out of the corner of our eye, like a ghost or a shadow.

They are the thing we pretend is not there.

They are the wounds that twist fear in our stomachs, way down in the dark of our being.

Just a flash.

Ooops, there’s a thing I should be looking at, working on.

Abandonment. Resentment. Neglect.  Abuse.

These things scar us, and direct us.  They take us on a journey whether we look at them or not.

They are in us.  They are us.