inevitable wounds, lucky scars

Most of us

Are lucky

To have scars

Form over wounds.

We may forget,

Or not even know

That there are some

In their hemophilic body and spirit

That keeps bleeding.


I’d rather have

Actual scars in my skin

Than scabs of old carnage

Over my soul.

Reality whispers into my ear

That doesn’t work like that.

People’s energy keeps being bled

And the wise ones call it

“Experience.”

Sometimes I wonder

If I can pass that knowledge

For, clearly,

I wouldn’t need it

Like some subjects

I wasted years on in school.

But I guess

Some crap still manages

To fly into your life

Even if you shut the windows well.


The fortunate ones live with scars

And over time

They become a part of our skin

To the point

We often don’t notice them

For what they are,

Or remember

What they represented.

We live on and care for our skin.

With creams and oils.


I do remember what they came from, though

That’s why I am still here –

My scars became part of my body

In a healthy way

Because my pain

From obtaining those wounds

Made me stronger.

I remember what I cannot do

And why.

Experience is no longer

Such a negative word

In my vocabulary.


the image was copied from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpFulmjknb4 Funny enough, this video demonstrates how to removes scars with the use of Photoshop program.

unplain view

Sometimes I must be blind to life itself,

And being deaf to reasoning

For me is no stranger.

My excuse is the pulse of existence so mercilessly fast,

And rules that seem to change every hour.

I swim in the river,

Paying attention to direction,

Not surroundings.

That’s when the view comes through

In times and places unexpected.

The shock, though subtle,

Is still strong.

Such is the time –

I’ve looked at this photo for years

Vainly,

Bothering my mind not,

And still I saw just branches and an occasional face.

It was when questioning came –

Of the fairness of reality,

Of the sense of trying hard,

That I saw them,

The runes of abundance.

Just trees they were,

And just trees I always seen in them

Yet when I needed to know it,

Their growing grace came through

With me least expecting it,

Filling my mind with knowing

And my spirit with feeling cared

For many a time.

Plentifulness is not always noticed,

But it is present,

Just like the earth keeps springing with life,

Unseen, uncared for by our ever-busy minds,

Yet it’s always pulsing in its own steady dance,

Ignoring my impatience

And short belief circuits failures.