I own a body covered by scars.

Months ago I had to go to the E.R.,

(an infection in my lip)

and the doctor saw those scars

lining the inside of my wrist

and if he thought I missed

the look that passed between him

and another -  I have seen that look

that shock, that disappointment -

as if my scars are somehow are shameful

instead of marks of survival.

 

As a doctor, doesn't he know

what you think will cure you

sometimes ends up killing you?

 

I have seen it written on other people's blogs

how angry people are

that writers write of the beautiful scar.

How are scars not beautiful?

They are just another story told

between you and this shaky world,

so sometimes you will fall and crack

the fine china of your body.

But, your body is designed to heal

and leave its signature that you lived to tell the tale.

 

The Chinese understood well

the beauty of cracks and the art of repair -

lining broken things in gold

so they were never cause for despair.

 

I own this body covered by scars.

They are the gold in my skin,

a map of the places I learned to heal

and fit myself together again.