Cold metals have left their marks,
The smooth thin lines,
Barely recognizable as the years have passed;
Prove that I am capable of surviving.
Laid there in fits of drunken anger
The blood, hot against the cold steel,
portrayed my marriage perfectly.
Four of them adorn my body,
each one followed by a promise
of sobriety,
of change,
of transformation.
At the time I believed he would
be the one to perform these actions.
Vile from my heart would fall out,
sounding like gentle roses upon his ears;
promises that I would love him,
be true to him,
and stand by him.
With each instance that I had to reaffirm
these promises to him
my resolve to find a way to escape solidified.
I changed from a young girl
wishing to be blissfully married
to a mother of a young child.
I transformed myself
from a scared mother
to a strong,
independent,
single mother.
Fresher marks now adorn my body.
Creases around my mouth and eyes
prove that I have learned to laugh again,
to smile without end.
Other new metals now wrap my finger;
the combination of metals and stones
affirm to me that I am now safe,
loved,
cherished.
The cool metals now warm my heart and soul.
The scars across my abdomen,
numb to the touch
attest that I have birthed two healthy children.
Their laughter and giggles fill my head
and overflow my heart on a daily basis.
My body carries permanent reminders
of a life I once lived
as well as markers of a life I live now.
I sobered up to the idea of what love,
faithfulness,
and marriage was about.
The scars I carry with me
serve as a reminder to a life once lived;
a warning to others of a life that shouldn’t be theirs;
a prayer that intelligence overrides passion.
....Mostly written as part of my Literature writing assignment in response to "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien, but wish to keep it & share it here.
