Scar's Perpetual Bliss

Time is truly a healer; its cost easily embraced by the unknown horizon. (Image by pinterest)

Scars' Perpetual Bliss
by Odin Roark

Our surface etchings,
how quiet the disfiguring moves,
skin's tenacity ever protective,
even as tissue of smiles eventually
becomes but canyon topography of times past.

Leisurely proceeds savage healing beneath,
bombarded with nature's unexpected,
aging platelets shift,
taking their time,
knowing we wait,
uplifting sorrows once buried,
making molten the flow
once contained and hardened.

Whether by deed,
word,
or thought,
wounds begin as opened expressions,
their potential scars knowing patience,
an art rendered of the often dreaded kind.

And then...

A day finally arrives.
Scars begin to shrivel.
Age becomes its own embrace.
The earned chameleon friendship
a cycle complete.
The rebirth of crying.
The wrinkled baby awaiting protection.

This time,
with the long sleep
poised at the threshold
where awakening
remains unnecessary,
smile muscles mix with sadness,
one's completed resonance becoming
all as one in Nature’s conviction…

Once more.