There are societies that purposely create scars.
Because they find them beautiful.
That sounds strange to us,
As we would probably prefer to hide our scars,
Whether the ones on our skins
Or those on our souls.
They come from places of pain.
They may heal but the memory of pain lasts as long as the scar.
But scars are the monuments, the milestones,
Along the road in our journey of becoming.
They can be inflicted by many small indignities,
As well as great traumas
The wound heals, the scar remains.
And a tree will leave a growth scar at times.
In as much as our scars are who we are,
Where we have been and how far we have traveled,
Perhaps we too can find them beautiful.
I have scars from surgeries
That constitute the record of my survival
And reminders of a gratitude
That renders them beautiful.