They told me that every scar on my body
Was just another moment that I survived.
That every stretched valley was a sign of
The struggles I've overcome.
I didn't believe them until now.
I look down at the pink lines that trace my
Seemingly endless thighs, and realize just what
Those people meant.
One day, as my lover and I lay down,
My daughter will push against me;
Her warmth radiating through blankets and
Soft breathing keeping my heart in time.
She'll notice the scars and ask how they came to be.
I'll stop, and I'll feel the arms embracing me tense,
But I'll know what to say.
I'll tell her that they are old battlewounds
From the most streneous of wars that lasted
For years upon years.
I'll tell her that sometimes our worst enemy
Is the person inside our head
And the hatred in the mirrors.
I'll tell her that, in my mind,
The police sirens called me to bourbon on the rocks
Until I crashed.
I'll tell her that I had to make a mosaic of all my broken
Shattered pieces. All I was made of was
Caffeine pills and just a little too much duct tape.
I'll tell her how I couldn't love myself
Even when others said they loved me;
How her father had to soothe my fears and smooth my hair
Before I'd dare look inside my Hell.
I'll tell her I learned that Heaven and Hell are not places
In the afterlife, but what we make of this world for ourselves.
I'll tell her she's beautiful, extraordinary, and a miracle;
That I'll protect her as much and as for long as I can.
I'll tell her my scars are beautiful
Because they taught me how to keep her safe.