Please excuse my daughter.
She hurt herself.
You can’t tell by looking,
Which is why this note is necessary.
The hurt is on the inside—
Inside the inside—
On her soul.
You know how she is:
Driven, devoted, determined
To a fault.
She heard me calling and started running
Over ancient stones and fallen trees,
Across empty, dark fields.
I kept calling; she kept running.
But she ran a sprint where I called marathon,
A race where I called a journey,
A frenzied, passionate pace burning her from within.
And she fell.
Exhausted and scorched and wordless,
She skidded across the path I’d laid for her,
Something broke as she clawed the ground for purchase.
Something broke as she collapsed at the bottom.
And when she tried to run again,
Her bones were too dry, all strength gone, the fire out.
She was looking where she was going,
But not how.
She’s home now, resting.
Not a mark on her—
On the outside.
But when something is broken, it’s never quite the same again,
Not even in the hands of a master healer;
Not even after the scars have faded.
So, please excuse my daughter today.
You can’t tell by looking, but
She’s learning how to walk again.
This post is part of Five-Minute Friday. This week’s prompt is EXCUSE. If you’d like to join in the fun, click here!