Not a Birthmark
“A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh” – Leonard Cohen
The scars around my ankles
from being burned when I was a baby
are almost invisible now
Like the wound of being separated
from mother and home
for a four-week hospital stay
We called dragonflies “sewing needles”
when we were kids at Billington Sea
We were scared they would land on us
pierce our skin and stitch it together
with a web of thread
We thought snakes lived in the mouths
of carousel horses at Paragon Park
We had to think about where to put our little hands
and what other dangers could be lurking
There once was a paisley-shaped scar
under the left side of my rib-cage
I imagined it as a hot splash
that my mother missed
when the dishtowel slipped
and the pot of boiling water crashed
When she covered me with butter
to treat 3rd degree burns
but forgot to take off
my shoes and socks
Two sons and two tracks
across the width of my abdomen
is a tender trust hidden
by stretch-marked flesh
They’re sliced side-by-by side
but in some places they are joined
they don’t reveal the internal
twisted tissue that clings
Sometimes lives are cut short
Pulled from the world as if it were a womb
Two brothers, a sister, a father and mother
have vanished without a trace
In Africa they say ‘the blessing is next to the wound’
Rumi says the cracks are where the light enters you
Is a scar the outer expression of what hurts inside?
Is it the shaping and healing by fire?
In Japan they mend broken pots with seams of gold
the gift and pain are both visible
worn like a map to a story turned legacy
held by the strength of resiliency
__________Colleen Redman / Poets United / Imaginary Garden with Real Toads
May 19th, 2019 10:05 am
The scars tell the story of your journey in this life. I was once told scars are the signs of a warrior spirit. It shows strength and resilience to unexpected events. A testament to overcoming trials.
May 19th, 2019 11:24 am
I read this poem, a story of your life, with reverence. The dropped pot, horrifying. The scars a roadmap of survival. I love the African saying. So true. The gold may be invisible, but it’s there.
May 19th, 2019 12:06 pm
A rich look at your story and the ways scars are defined… and how they define us. Beautiful.
May 19th, 2019 12:06 pm
I love the journey of the scars, maybe it reminds us that we have lived, and loved… love this.
May 19th, 2019 1:28 pm
I can’t tell you how incredibly moving your poem is. The title itself stirred my heart as I read on. Thank you for sharing your story ❤
May 19th, 2019 3:40 pm
This hums with reverence and I was stunned by your descriptions.
May 19th, 2019 4:27 pm
Scars mark our way through life–That is how we know we have lived I think–your piece today just pulls at me though–maybe the pain of childhood–
May 19th, 2019 7:16 pm
Scars. We all have them. I like the way you hold yours up to the light and say, “You are a part of me. Without you, I wouldn’t be who I am today.” You did say that, didn’t you? 🙂
May 19th, 2019 9:24 pm
Our scars do have many stories to tell. Some scars are internal and maybe tell the saddest tales. I like your reference at the end of your poem on kintsugi too.
Gayle ~
May 20th, 2019 12:17 am
The scars we bear- physical and mental- tell a story of survival. They heal but still have memories of the pain. This is a poem that will resonate with many, I think.
May 20th, 2019 4:28 am
I enjoyed following your map, Colleen. I’d never heard of dragonflies being called ‘sewing needles’, which is a wonderful name, but I can understand how children would be afraid of them. I too was scalded when I was a child, but I can’t imagine 3rd degree burns. This poem has such emotive imagery: the tracks of tender trust, the internal twisted tissue and the vanished family. I like the way the final stanzas sum up the power of scars.
May 20th, 2019 7:43 pm
This is so beautiful, a mini autobiography that perhaps we should all copy for our children and grandchildren. I was really touched by this poem.
May 20th, 2019 9:24 pm
this is absolutely beautiful the scars and all…you express the pain and the fear in every stanza…you are brave in this expression of self i am taking this as…thank you for your honesty…bkm
May 21st, 2019 11:06 am
i enjoyed reading this poem, and the lovely imagery you painted in it.
perhaps physical scars are the reminders of pivotal parts in the journey of life, and should be worn with pride. 🙂
May 21st, 2019 5:30 pm
Ah, how all these scars tell a story of life and its myriad phases and hues is plain wonderful — your voice, tone, and imagery make it so emotive. I am touched by this remembrance, this recounting of all these significant events, and its eventual convergence into a kind of philosophy to guide us.
Beautiful writing!
May 21st, 2019 6:17 pm
Wow Colleen, scars like the roadmap of your life. This is a fascinating write – engaging and so well crafted!
May 21st, 2019 7:20 pm
What a wonderful recounting of your scars and life. I did a prompt for Wednesday Muse a frw week ago about kintsugi and the scars we get and heal from
May 21st, 2019 7:26 pm
Oh, the scars! And then there are the ones that don’t show, eh?
May 22nd, 2019 2:10 am
A nice medley of good healing. With scars to remind. It saddens this reader that so many of them are from hurt, pleasure seldom leaves scars. Not all hurts leave visual scars, most leave them on the heart. I’ve many of those, so bad the hurts I would think hard about ending things.
..
May 22nd, 2019 12:10 pm
This so personal, so incredibly deep, the last two stanzas I am in awe of. Thank you for this gift.
May 30th, 2019 11:41 pm
I love your poem, Colleen. The rich stories our scars tell. I was looking at the scar on my knee this morning, remembering the ouch! when 10 year old me tumbled down the bus steps.