An Ode To The Scabs
Can you see my scabby places?
They’re not pretty.
They’re not beautiful.
And they’re not polished.
Can you see my scabby places?
These healing places where
the raw edges of myself
are knitted back together.
Can you see my scabby places?
They’re not pretty.
They’re not beautiful.
And they’re not polished.
But these places are healing places.
And they’re sacred.
One Comment
Peggy Reynolds
I can so relate to this poem. …those healing, sacred places. A bit of humor going on too. I received your newsletter this morning. I love how things like music, scent, and images serve as touchstones in our lives: taking us back to another time and the emotions that we felt, bringing them forward to blend and lend perspective to the present.