Some folks I know just won’t leave their scabs alone.
Bitterness stains their voices as they recount old wounds and misdeeds. Loop counters are sadly missing so they vent their anger about the injustices again, again, again, again, again, relentless as rats scrabbling to escape.
Forty years ago, a few minutes ago, time’s passage since the slight is irrelevant. The scabs are there. Their minds return to pick them, never letting the wounds heal. The wounds weep and seep, sometimes bleeding under their incessant picking. Still they pick, although it hurts and often worsens.
Still they pick.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com