Scars can be beautiful..

Indulge the Poet in me for a moment!!

There is a scar,  so deep and powerful…

so hidden,  covered, layered, made up…but I saw it or part of it I should say,

in the arena, as we stood back to back and she fought with the ferocity of a beast,

in the mud and dirt and shit flying,  her breast-plate slipped during a lunge and I saw it with the corner of my eye..

A jagged raw scar, or at least the edge I saw,  the kind of scar that comes from

binding it yourself…alone with no help to speak of.

I know the name of that scar, and I tremble in awe in how I came to that knowledge..

One day I’m going to trace that scar with my own finger,  and drink her tears…

God will be there too…