A Fetlifer issued a challenge this week based on a quote by Ernest Hemingway to write “Hard and clear about what hurts.” This was my response:
I’d written a haiku in answer to this challenge:
Just the tiny prick
of the needle as it squirts
But the challenge is to write hard and clear, and that haiku is neither hard nor clear.
I think about the answer to the question “What hurts?” and right now, nothingdoes.
There’s nobody holding court in my heart, but it doesn’t feel empty. There’s no dull, hollow ache – the one that had taken residence for so long I’d started to believe I welcomed it.
The only pain I receive now is the pain I seek. The slaps, the bites, the scratching as rope is pulled taut across my skin. The kind of hurt that results in the indulgent satisfaction of surrender.
What hurts, you ask?
Not nearly enough.