The Comfort of Bruises
On suffering.
There’s something satisfying about bruises.
The way they colour your skin so pointedly.
Letting the world know you’re hurt.
That there’s an injury here.
That pain has occured, and a recovery time may be necessary.
That you won’t be operating at optimum capacity just yet.
There’s a comfort in those bruises.
But what of the invisible ones?
The ones that have no colour, but hurt like hell.
How do you get on when you’re broken a little? Maybe a lot.
And there’s no flag to mark the spot.
No way for people to tell that you’ll be struggling for a while.
No acknowledgment that pain has happened here.
No proof of your suffering.
Yes, there’s a comfort in bruises.
The colours painting your story.
Liberating you from the need to explain yourself.
Speaking the words you can’t.
