A piece of prose about the scars we cannot see, but ones that impact us still
Where do we look, when observing the scars of life
A scratch from our dog, a puncture wound from kitchen knife
A skateboard accident, it threw you five feet high
It's not what you meant, communication gone awry
A hurtful word, spoken in an angry moment's heat
An addiction habit that you can't help but repeat
A surgery's reminder that a doctor visited here
A child's neglect, abuse, molest, terror and fear
From the dent deep, a fender bender on a favorite car
To the unsettling sleep, whispering a subconscious, silent scar
Scars I cannot feel
Scars I cannot see
Scars I cannot heal
Scars that are a part of me
And so, even in dismay, we make a path our way
Traversing through the troubles of the day
Bruised in the battles, bones and egos broken
We search for salve, that truth to be spoken
The mirror reflects the ugliness directly back at us
When we lose face, lose faith, lose the will to trust
Yet persevere we must, holding onto sun behind cloud
Seeking the higher reflection, the angel's voice crying loud
Hearing the song of the soul that, at once, we can embrace
Leaving us still, in surrendered will, in the glory of our grace
Yes, as you arrive, fully alive, you'll see it was never far
Guided on, all along, behind the sacred, silent scar
Scars that show you what to feel
Scars that see you through
Scars that love will ultimately heal
Scars that are not you
