Where Is It?

Where is it?

the doctor asks.

You have no answer.

How can you explain

the pain is subjective?

How can you explain

that it feels like your body is on fire

while you are numb at the same time?

Where is it?

your best friend asks.

You won’t say

you feel it in your legs or shoulders.

You won’t say

it’s in your head or hands.

You cannot explain

its location or direction,

only that it is heavy,

hot,

weighty.

Where is it?

your mother asks.

She looks at you pleading.

She wants to heal it.

How can you explain

it is there,

but also isn’t?

It needs stitching,

yet you do not believe

it can be fixed.

Even an X-ray, MRI, or CT scan

cannot see it,

but it is real.

You feel it.

Like a thousand needles piercing skin.

Like a vacuum stealing the air from your lungs.

Like an alarm constantly ringing

or rather,

banging against your skull.

Where is it?

they all ask once more.

They know

or rather feel

that you are fractured.

No, worse:

broken.