The Wound We Wind


Round and round we wind
The wound we wound around us
Tight in our own grasp
History is history
The present we give ourselves

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on October 23, 2017, in Tanka and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 19 Comments.

  1. Clever wordplay on a profound truth. I think the last line is brilliant!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you for the reminder. I agree with Betty. Brilliant!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Another cleverly written poem, Ben, with truth in abundance. Inventive and effective!


    • You are always so generous, Lauren. Thank you. We are so often trapped by our entanglement in our past and/or our view of it.

      Psychology/psychotherapy reduced to a tanka. One can memorise it and repeat as required. Unlike pills there are no nasty side effects either. 🙂


  4. Fascinating how the meanings of words and their form wind each other up and tease our imaginations. That’s why the dictionary is my favourite book. I can’t wait to see what happens at the end…

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I read this out loud to Uncle Yoda and he wound up side down. At least that’s his tory.

    Liked by 1 person

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