Wounded Woman (Drawing by Aida Correa)

I have found her seated in coffee houses and poetry lounges. She has stood behind me in the supermarket; beside me in church and we have fellowshipped together at lunchtime on the various jobs I have held. She is often African-American; visually sharing the same features, mannerisms, and characteristics as myself. But on many an occasion, I have found her to be of any and all ethnicities. She has been Catholic as well as Muslim. Baptist and Pentacostal. She is educated and well-groomed, or just as easily, ghetto and unrefined. She is the Wounded Woman and you can find her almost anywhere. To the average person, she may not be so readily recognized. But for one with a trained eye, she is easily spotted in any crowd. There are years of torment on her face and her eyes look to you for an understanding that she knows you can't give. So often she is hurriedly trying to cover up her scars before you notice they exist. Don't mistake her tough exterior as indifference, it's just a mask she wears to hide her insecurities. She is an expert at laughing instead of crying and if you look very closely, underneath the make up she is wearing to cover up imperfections that aren't really there, you may just see the tears of a clown. Hurt by rejection, wounded by friends and family and life; she is a broken soul longing for healing and freedom. As crazy as it may seem, sometimes she doesn't even know that she is wounded. She couldn't tell you where it hurts if you asked her, or who inflicted the wound, but it is quite apparant that some type of trauma has definitely occured. If you see her, don't neglect to read between the lines of her subtext. There you will find neatly printed between years of heartache and pain the message: FRAGILE - HANDLE WITH CARE!


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