You take a photograph of yourself,
shirtless, vulnerable
to show where they split
and stapled you together
more intimate
than mirrors tell it
I see your fragility
,
the determination
ringing tired eyes,
spun with the surety
of flesh reknitting
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Those are terrible lines for people to deal with. Well-expressed. k.
K, thank you. Sometimes, if the choice is between life and lines, I will take those lines.
So much truth–my brother just had major surgery–we put ourselves at death’s door sometimes–in the pursuit of less pain
Yes, we do. So well said.
Great beginning woman,–I’d think about losing “but” and “slow” in the last stanza.>KB
Oh, that works well. Going to tweak it now. You know it is nowhere near done yet, just tossed the fragment out there. Thank you!
Went back and read some comments above–food for thought–those lines are the life lines of survival.>KB
Yes, that needs to be in there somewhere…
I like vision of the raw core of fragile humanity looking past the slash and stitch marks. Very intensely real. Just the way I like poetry.
Ah, my friend Marek (the one who just had open-heart surgery) posted some pics of his scar. Why does it make it more real somehow to see that than to visit him in the ICU?
Poor thing. I hope his recovery is going well.
Thanks, Alice. He seems to be doing very well now.
Even as a doctor, it’s hard for me to grasp how such brutal surgeries can help people get better. It spins my head.
Yes, exactly. Although lifesaving, our bodies still react to it as they would to an assault of the worst kind.
This reminded me of an image I saw once of a woman with a scar from a radical mastectomy that she had covered with a tattoo of a dragon. I always wondered at the courage it must have taken to embrace and accept something like that. with “the determination
ringing tired eyes,
spun with the surety
of flesh reknitting”
…yes…exactly like that…
Johnny, thank you. Yes, those are the lines that let us keep living.
Courage in the face of adversity, very powerful imagery. Be well. ☼
Thank you! I am sure my friend will be!
Great compassion! Your poem flows with this warm compassion and empathy. Your last stanza (especially “Flesh reknitting”) carries with it also the reassuring hints of hope re-igniting, body-soul-spirit re-welding, rebinding – buoyed by stubborn hope, positive, challenging and negating the negation of dying and death. Dylan Thomas would have been proud of this strong urge to live that surfaces in this last stanza. They resonate with his words – “Do not go gentle into that good night”!
Noel, thank you for your kind comment. Glad you are well & back from wandering the periphery–missed reading your comments!
Having been split and stapled several times myself, I really appreciated this.
Thanks, Paul. Such a powerful thing to live through and heal. So glad you did.
you capture moments and we join you. it is stunning.
Thank you, Shrinks.
Quite personal, portraying a circumstance I can well imagine.
Thank you, Nelle. Rough subject area.
Poignant, Susan. I hope your friend is recovering very well
He is, Celestine–thank you!