One day when I was 12 or so, I was climbing over my backyard fence. After making the turn on the fence, I jumped off. I made a slight miscalculation, and held on to the fence a bit too long. As luck would have it, the piece of wood I held on to had very jagged edges. When I hit the ground, I knew something was wrong. I looked at my hands. They were bleeding. I was bleeding.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just watched the blood.
The blood that used to be mine was now the earths. The blood that ran my body was now paint on the worlds canvas. The blood that had been in my body since the day I was born, was freed to do as it liked.
My mom, who saw me through the window, rushed outside to my wounded side. As red poured down my wrists, I realized something. I am reminded of this realization today.
"Oh my god, Mike! Are you okay?!"
"I'm fine, momma"
"I don't think you are...come inside and let me see how deep it is"
My mom took me inside and dressed my wound.
After being bandaged up, I went back outside and squatted down to take a closer look at my then-dried blood.
It was really beautiful. My blood was really beautiful.