The Wounded Healer

Click on this blog entitled, “The Father Wound”
Now read this blog!
The wounded child reappeared
With a tender touch on my back
Like the woman with haemorrhage
Who touched the hem of Jesus’ clothing.

Turning around
I looked down to see gentle, gazing, gorgeous eyes
Begging, begging for something.

Without permission
Tiny hands spread wide open
Clutching tightly around my waist
Like the claws of crab securing its food,
And the left side of his teeny face
Resting gently on my abdomen
As if begging forgiveness with a hug.

My heart and hands answered back without thought
Clasping his head tight on my tummy
And planting a kiss
On the crown of his head.

Like a colony of bees
Buzzing around
We were both lost briefly
In the buzzing interaction.

Amidst the buzzing
The wounded child positioned himself in front of me
Head bending backwards to the sky
As if looking up at a skyscraper.

In a commanding tone, I heard,
“Stoop down!”
Stooping down in slow motion
My forehead became the target
As his right hand hit the bullseye
With the sign of the cross on my sweating forehead.
Piercing deep into my heart
My response was reciprocal.

Ending the chapter with a final hug
and a tender forehead kiss.
Leaving me to name him,
Not the wounded child,
But the Wounded-Healer.

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