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.