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my bandages.

do you like my bandages? i made them myself. from outfits i don’t wear anymore. i have learned to dress my own wounds. i’ve learned the timing; they need to be covered and they need to breathe. but only i know the when and how. my wounds want washing and sometimes a bit of ointment. there’s a heat that emanates as they alchemize. sometimes this itches, sometimes it swells. it’s not great.

but i’ve learned to tend to me. i don’t need you to bring me your scraps. i have plenty of fabric. and when these bandages become soaked and soiled, they go straight into the compost. i don’t reuse them. they turn into something else. just as i do.

and when the new, pink vulnerable skin finally begins to close, that’s just for me. i’m still not ready to be out and about. the deeper layers need to grow in for the dermis to complete. i’m not going outside just for this baby skin to get sunburned and scar even before new me has had a look around.

it’s interesting how the world remakes itself as i do. because when my skin heals, so does my vision. so does my heart. and it becomes easier to live in proper reverence for what all we are really doing here.