At the Sight of Blood

I am striding fiercely forwards

When out of nowhere that snagging memory

Catches my sleeve

Tugging at my soft flesh.

The sight of blood no longer flaws me

To an ungainly sodden heap

Where strangers stare

And sympathetic fussing friends

Haul me to my feet again.

But I stumble still

And wince, instinctively.

Lifting the wound to my lips,

Before I know if I’ve drawn blood.

I am unsteady on this freshly paved path

And I stare bewildered

At the unfamiliar ground

Firm beneath my feet.

And in that fleeting moment

Before I push back that

Nagging ache,

And fix my eye on the dull incline

I know I long for our forest floor

Brambles and all.