New flesh soft and clear is revealed so young and uncertain, it stays awhile longer under old, cemented crust watching, waiting to make a move into new.
Though for awhile there was nothing but tearing. A ripping apart of old skin by some giant outside claw, coming in without an invitation, searching for something unseen and destroying everything in sight.
So many old familiar things torn into dead. Leaving in it's wake, a cold and frightened shell asking why? Gone are those that felt like fixtures and reliable old landmarks.
Stolen from someone who may have needed them, badly. These layers have been taken away painfully to reveal something. What that is, remains uncertain.
In the mean time, the question stays silent in the air...why?
Why were so many things pulled out from the hands that held onto what looked like long wooden sticks to stay upright with, creatures of faith and love that have now become dust.
Why must the process of letting go be so elusive and mean? I'm sure there is some beautiful story in the answer but in the mean time, anger boils into acid and shards of distrust form ready, to be used.