Old Wounds

And just like that, old wounds were scratched open again.
O death, why do you have to sting this bad?
It hurts probably because I seek permanence in an impermanent world.
It hurts probably because I’m holding on to things which should be let go eventually.
But everyday, I’ll choose to see beauty in this tragedy
To leave no words unspoken
To treat no gift unappreciated
To cherish each fleeting moment with people
Moments I’ll know that would just be memories in the end
It hurts probably because I know I could’ve done more.
It hurts probably because I’ve always denied this painful reality.
We all die in the end, a fact that’s not a matter of ‘if’ but of ‘when’
A fact that I always have difficulty coming to terms with
For every last breath taken by a dear friend or loved one
I know that someday I’ll be in that stage as well
Just thinking about this grim thought
Is more than enough to make my world stop
How many days, weeks, months or years are we to live?
No one really knows, isn’t it?
Taking a good, close look at the mirror
And suddenly I go into self-evaluation
In a world where I could be anything, have I been kind?
In a moment where I could do something, have I been generous?
In a hurtful situation, have I been forgiving?
It hurts probably because the future seems always uncertain.
It hurts probably because in the absence of eternity, desperation starts kicking in.
In the midst of all this brokenness, I always tend to listen to a tiny whisper
That there’s a reason for everything
That His love and grace should be sufficient
That despite the uncertainty, I’ll hold on to the power of faith
It hurts so bad — I was taught to cry though, but to never surrender.
I shed tears often but I was taught to wipe them and continue the journey.
We’re all but mortals in this tricky thing called life.
And I’m with you, my friend, in figuring out the grace behind this mystery.
If there’s anything I will bring from now on towards my grave
Is that I’ll continue to clothe myself with love, faith and courage
To kiss and embrace the people I hold dear
To forgive with no conditions
To give my heart unselfishly
To pray that when my own time comes, to let time allow me to be ready.
Just like this, I’m learning to let the wound heal naturally in its own time.
But death, o death, why do you have to sting so bad?

Photo by Viktor Hanacek in Picjumbo

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