Scars Sublime
by Odin Roark

Our surface etchings,
how quiet the disfiguring moves,
skin's tenacity ever protective,
even as tissue of smiles eventually
becomes but canyon topography of times past.

Leisurely proceeds savage healing beneath,
bombarded with nature's unexpected,
aging platelets shift
taking their time,
knowing we want to wait.
delaying sorrows once buried,
pain making molten the flow,
once thought contained and hardened.

Whether by deed,
word,
or thought,
wounds some how want to open,
their scars knowing patience is a virtue,
a much maligned art rendered as undesirable
by some.

And then...

A day finally arrives,
scars begin to shrivel,
age, often complimented with wisdom
becomes its own embrace,
the earned chameleon friendship,
a sleight of hand cycle complete,
the rebirth of crying,
often wailing,
always a purge to be acknowledged,
the forever wrinkled baby awaiting protection,
us.

Perhaps…

This time,
with the long sleep
poised at the threshold,
where awakening
remains unnecessary for some,
smile muscles mix with sadness,
their past dissonance resonating
into the forgotten childlike harmony of one.

Remmeber?

That time when we were but one
with ourselves?

How inviting,
yesterday’s next beginning
that journey into another kaleidoscopic existence,
regardless of form.

Scars sublime,
meaning’s message.