In Africa, the patterned face is a symbol
of a warrior heart or life’s triumph over suffering unspeakable.

The cuts heal to form mounds of intersecting lines –
a reminder of one’s heritage.

This morning, the light falls in a peculiar slant,
joining with shadow to form a triangular blade
with saw-like teeth.

It falls across my chest and pierces me,
reminding me of the grace by which I rise to face
what day will bring.

The light traces my past of pain which heals slowly,
and I can barely glimpse the promise of beauty
to be revealed in me.