My Scars

A wound is raw

A scab is tender
 
 I resent my limited mobility
 
 and the extra precautions I take

while waiting for the scar to provide durability

 
 My scars may open up

So I suppose they are more like scabs than scars

because they will open up

from time to time and unexpectedly

But the intensive care is behind me

No longer do I fear infection, nor acute danger

I haven't for a while

Beyond the seeping wounds and fragile scabs
 
 I discovered relief
 
 Oh, was it a beautiful relief!

For I didn't even know that feeling was possible

But scar tissue was visible

and the worst was behind me

And this relief birthed an unbridled desire to live again

 
 But I quickly began
 
 To resent my scars
 
 I resented and cursed the scars on my heart
 
 I felt discomfort just looking at them

And it's important that you know,

it's not because of my son's dy-ing
 
 (I needed no reminding, it's my baby who died.)

 
 My scars mostly reminded me of the painful moments

my son's death brought

Torment and despair

Feeling naked and alone and afraid

Wearing a scarlet letter of pain

My scars took me back to that place

where my heart was broken-open,

vulnerable and exposed to the world

My scars reminded me

that others won't see me as normal

or capable

Nobody will push me

and

People will pity me

and

They will claim my joy must be fake

My scars spoke the world's voice to me...

I must be damaged goods

I will never be the same

(I like the new me better.)
 
 
 I tried to be positive

and focus on what I knew to be true...

My devastation had stripped ME away
 
 And this demolishing had created a clear path

for Spirit to speak through me
 
 I knew this was true,

Miraculous

Wondrous

But I still didn’t like my scars

 
 Even after I took the band-aids off
 
 and opened up to life
 
 I resented my new status
 
 I wanted to hide my scars

 
 This morning I wake to a new dawn,
 
 A new phase in my journey, I suppose
 
 Spirit is amazing, and all glory be to God
 
 Today I can also say,
 
 I am amazing too

 
 “My son has died”
 
 I feel a new emotion behind these words today
 
 I am proud
 
 of myself
 
 I am proud of myself!
 
 I am grateful
 
 for resiliency
 
 for strength
 
 for the mining of my ego

Devastation gave me all of these gifts, these treasures, these gems!

 
 Can I tell you about my son?
 
 Can I tell you that he died?
 
 It may make you sad, you may pity me
 
 But today that’s okay with me
 
 So can I tell you my amazing story?
 
 Oh yes, I have to tell you my son didn’t really die
 
 That is the most glorious part of all,
 
 my mission he left me
 
 I share this with the world!

 
 But today, my friend,
 
 Can I tell you of the devastation I have been through?
 
 Can I tell you I am grateful for it?
 
 I am not damaged goods
 
 I am a woman now unafraid of pain
 
 I am a woman more compassionate
 
 I am a woman who can listen to the broken

I am among the least of these

And

 
 I am a wonder woman
 
 I have faced my biggest fears
 
 I have walked through darkness

with my eyes wide open
 
 I have lived in the valley of the shadow of death

I have pleaded for this earth to swallow me whole

to escape the pain

And I am still standing

Strong
 
 
 Can I show you my scars?

If not, that's okay

But I am proud of them now
 
 Maybe you’ll remember my story
 
 when life delivers destruction

Maybe you will take my virtual hand

to hold for strength

 
 My son is proud of me, he has shown me every step of the way
 
 But today
 
 I am proud of me too

My scars honor me

My scars acknowledge the hardest work I have ever done

My scars represent overcoming

and my scars represent pain,

Pain that shaved the outer me away

to expose my core

I am grateful for my scars

My scars represent

the Triumph of my Soul

(I searched for a photo appropriate for this post. This was a challenge because I have focused on hope... I don't have photos of my difficult times. This photo struck me when I found it. I took this photo of Perry's younger brother, Jonas, while we were eating out for the first time as a family of four. This was the first time we were asked, "how many...?" and the first time one of us had to answer "4". It took everything in me to choke back until I could release in a more private setting... This photo and the sentiment on the cup seemed to be fitting for this post, for such a time as this. Every piece of our story is important.)