A Thousand Tiny Cuts

Some of us never learned the lesson — not for paper, nor for people.

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Do you remember learning how to make snowflakes out of paper?

You know,
The way we were taught when we were young?
Young enough that
We still needed the small scissors with
Bright colored handles and
Duller, shorter blades–
The ones that were so good
At cutting paper and
Not cutting us,
Even despite our
Reckless, tiny hands?

We carved strange shapes into
The layered folds of our
Blank white sheets,
Projecting stories
Into the emptiness.
We bore the imagined marks of
Nature’s chaos
Into the tangible shell of Her
Desecration
In the hopes of recreating
Just a piece of Her
Magic.

But upon unfolding,
We experienced one of the
Simplest and most profound truths: