Making the Cut

                                 
  “Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.” Leonard Cohen

                                              Making the Cut

            Arising at midnight,
                      calmly and quietly,
                she pulls the shiny sharp steel from it's hidden place,
                      twinkling light in cold grey eyes,
                  there is no emotion on her weathered face.

              A small cut tonight,
                      perspiration of crimson drops
                  cry into the whiteness of the sink,
                        the screaming in her mind stops,
                    she retreats from the brink,   
                     

              Back to the dark bed,
                    where unspeakable images of a thing
                screamed in her head,
                      where all the inner scars like leeches cling.

              But now the silence seemed holy,
                      in her mind she surveyed all the scars,
                  inside a bleeding ceased
                                and all seemed well
                  as she slept dreamlessly
                      between heaven and hell.