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Things left behind: (1 Viewer)

dannyboy

Friends of WF
Scars hold the flesh in ways
hands never can
tell tales as old
as ochre on cavern walls.

Scars are the darkness
capturing light
the music found
in the silence of the past.

Lines straight, lines crooked,
jagged lump, half-crescent clip;
one exists above my top lip
another on the pad of my left thumb
their tales tell of steps taken
the twists and turns
the blood and pain –
how surprise captures us time after time.

Each scar is mine
sacred and restful;
a trauma
learning to breath into the future.
 
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Gumby

Staff member
Co-Owner
Such truth and vulnerability in this. Each scar a story of a overcoming in some way whether big or small, we have survived and it is written there in our flesh. Our testament written by life and we are the living word.
 

-xXx-

Financial Supporter
Oh, this poem, I can relate to it so much! It's very true, every word of it. Thank you.

Such truth and vulnerability in this. Each scar a story of a overcoming in some way whether big or small, we have survived and it is written there in our flesh. Our testament written by life and we are the living word.

breathe

and in
and through
your words
minds
hearts
souls
are
free

to

*be well*
;)
 
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rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
introspective and insightful poetry done with a fine brush. The scars we carry either physical or metaphorically show us how pain, trauma and a bit of suffering etches into our spirits defining who and what we are. One hell of poem...

warmest
bob
 
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