Yet I Return Poem by Kathryn Mahan

I send forth soft touch,
Hoping to heal the damage,
Done by another,
In another time.
I dash against a hard soul,
Feel the dull edge of rock,
Rip rough gashes,
And gouge me deep.
Tear the tender fabric
Of my heart.
I retreat, bleeding,
Sorrow filling my soul
So full that I stagger,
Leaving a smeared trail
Of lost hope.
I slowly stand straight,
Anger rising,
And view the drying outline
Of the trail.
Like the ice cold barrel of a gun
Pressed to my breast
Hatred freezes me.
I stop.
The target is on my own heart,
And the finger on the trigger
Is my own.
And then I see,
That I am needed again.
Not wanted, only needed.
I feel compassion, detestable,
Well up within me.
And I return.
I send forth soft touch,
Knowing full well,
How perfectly the dull-edged rocks
Match the scars on my heart.
There is no justice.
There is no 'fair.'
There is only the return.