Soul Stitches

Once, I had a dark, brown mole removed.

My genes make me resistant

to the lidocaine.

The doctor cut deep

to get clear margins.

I started to feel the sharp of the scalpel.

I winced. He added more medicine.

As he finished, his sutures

wove me back together

like hands folded in prayer.

After some time and healing at home,

I had to return to the place of my wounding

so I might be fully freed,

because the stitches —

once important for support —

had become barriers to recovery

in need of removal.

Wounds of the soul can parallel

those on our skin,

going deep and cutting sharp,

requiring binding up and time to heal,

but some necessitate

revisiting the places of our wounding,

so we can unlearn old

coping skills and thoughts

starting to get in the way

of further healing.

Like the stitches, they must go.

It might sting a bit, at first,

but it's better for us, in the end.

New growth must happen

to replace the old way of being,

but where it does, we’re stronger.