I left my final class of the day saddened by comments made by one of the students. In our discussion about how two films define love, forgiveness, redemption, hope, and freedom, she spewed venom about love in a way that shocked most of the other students.
Sometimes it’s easier for a wounded individual to speak from anger than it is to confront deep pain, but, as an English professor, it’s not my place to “psychoanalyze” her or any other student. It is my “job,” however, to help her develop sound intellectual traits. But, because of her wound, she could not see the shortsightedness of her thinking.
I thought about my student this evening as I was reading through Anointed to Fly, a poetry collection by Dr. Gloria Wade Gayles. The words of “Heartwounds” [below] seemed to leap off the page. With incredible insight, the poem describes the persistent ache of a woman who [once] loved. I thought about my student as I read the poem.
“Heartwounds”
Gloria Wade Gayles, Anointed to Fly
Some men have not learned that heartwounds
as deep as a woman’s need for love
do not respond to phoney curatives
of roses, sweetened words and
make-up passion in scented rooms.
They do not heal themselves
with the passing of time
which erases time only
but not pain and the memory
of pain.
Let untreated
heartwounds become
sores
scabs
scars
ugly reminders of flawed love.
Some men believe
women were born
to endure
to understand
to forgive
to be irrational in all things.
It is that way,
they tell us,
with the pull of the moon.
They will not learn
perhaps cannot learn
that a woman’s heart
damaged by multiple wounds
beats faintly
and then
not
at
all
I’m sorry this isn’t a happy poem, and that this #WordlessWednesday is kind of wordy. You can skip the poem and just look at the pretty picture if you wish. I’ve been practicing photographing roses, so you’ll see another rose photo soon.
