Another Day Nearer Poem by Ian Bowen
Another Day Nearer
This pain,
that grinds,
without blood or injury.
Undetectable by sight
or in-depth examination.
My flesh is intact, in fact,
a picture of health,
to those who, can only
look with naïve eyes.
But, I bleed buckets
into a soul, that festers
and longs for times
when we were two.
So, what is the healing process?
Buy bandages?
Rub soothing oil?
Or wait for time….
they say, it heals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 4:02:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A painfully beautiful poem from a lonely broken soul... Time does heal wounds. At least, most of them.