The snare
…the snare has been broken,
and we have escaped.
I imagine that when snared animals are set free, if their wounds are not mortal, they bolt into the forest as fast as they can go. Hurt, but free.
Once in a while these injured creatures (the ones inside of me, anyway) come shyly out of the forest, hoping to be tended and helped. More food, more light and air, more clean water. Snare wounds heal with time.
12th station of the cross, Mercy Center, Burlingame, California
Then the creatures bolt away again.
Every time I see them, they are more whole, more joyful. But part of the healing is the experience of old feelings that never had a chance to be felt. Each visit hurts.
And when they go, they always leave a day or two of sadness behind them, like a wake.
It helps to know that the next time I see them, they will be a little bit more whole. A little bit more joyful.
