Prophecy

by Sarah Jane Souther

Prophecy 


Along the edges of your profile 
I traced a prophecy 
of springtime and silence

and cut my finger
along the way 

Avoidance lacquered
with autumn gloss almost 
made me overlook 
the injury 

The questions, endless: 
Where did the fault lie?
In your sharpness uncovered
Or my daring touch? 

How easy it is to
shame ourselves
for loving
what wounded us

But then,
won’t we always be reaching 
for broken things

There are no other kind
of people
in this world, 
there are 
no other kind of things

And next time 
maybe it will be me
serrated along the edge,
cutting the unsuspecting
hands that reach for me 

And I’ll try not to cast blame 
where it isn’t due

---

— SJ