The Walking Wounded Poem by Amy Serhienko

We are the walking wounded.
our souls perforated,
confidence seeping out from within.

We find each other instinctively,
our raw emotions
a homing signal

We come together,
online and at work and in school,
and we know.

We know the pain,
and the scars,
and the sadness.

We fear the joy,
and the bliss,
and the pleasure.

Because we recall
how fast
it can disappear.

So we walk toward each other,
tentatively,
hands outstretched,
but fingers taut;
eyes and ears open,
but hearts protected.