Scars

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As steady as a beating drum, my heart beats in my chest…

Pumping blood rushing through my veins to the tips of my fingers and toes

And only God knows how hard it hurts to stay alive sometimes…

And when all is said and done, and everyone is gone,

I’m left alone to dance to the rhythm of my heart playing in my chest,

And I begin to move, mixing my salsa with my tears as I gasp for the breath of life for what I think could be my last time…

And as my head begins to sink, and as my eyelids slowly shut,

My gaze falls upon my chest…

And I see them…

Those scars…

Those scars I wear across my chest

From times I failed to be the best I could be,

From times people looked and couldn’t see any good in me…

And they threw me aside as they took out the trash when they were spring cleaning out their lives…

Scars from times I loved so deep it carved a hole straight through my heart,

And it took days, and weeks, and months of surgery,

Lying under the blade of the Word setting asunder the cause of the incessant bleeding, as my heart beat faster,

A cupid’s arrow lodged in my left auricle

Filling my veins with the poison I called love…

And it was killing me softly…

“I honestly didn’t know where to turn

Because everyone I went to seemed to think that

The only problem with my situation was me.

And as the daggers of “encouragement” pierced through my abdomen,

I realised it was harder to digest the truth

When the rest of the world thought you were the lie,

And lying there waiting for a Good Samaritan to hear my silent screams and help me to an inn,

… Then I began to realise,”nobody knows who I really am…”

“Nobody can recognise me…”

“Nobody knows my name.”

 

But somebody did…

And He picked me up…

And He cleaned me up…

And He called me by name…

Not liar, or misfit… He knew my name.

And His voice was sweet as the nectar and smooth as honey…

And His hands were warm and gentle as he washed me clean with the water of His Word…

And his touch was so tender,

I didn’t even feel the needle stitching me back together again…

And in His eyes was the beauty of sunrise and sunset,

Setting my fractures and mending my wounds

And by the time He was through, they were nothing but scars…

Those scars…

And I said, “Jesus, if you would heal me, “Why leave the scars? They only remind me of the hurt…”

I didn’t understand then, you see…

Those scars…

The ones He left behind were not only to remind me of the hurt…

They were to remind me of the pain

And the times I hurt so bad

And the loneliness

And the anger

And the loss

And the rejection

And the times I was misunderstood…

And the people I trusted to be for me

Went before me to hail me as the queen of the sinners and the condemned…

And I still hear their taunts…

And the names…

And I remember the feel of the earth as I lay dying,

With smoke in my eyes,

And the smell of the dust filling my lungs and the taste of my own blood in my mouth…

And you may wonder why I wear them so proudly…

And you remember me by the scars you gave me,

By the names you called me…

Like liar and loser, and weak and dysfunctional, disobedient, a prostitute, disloyal, fake, unreliable, emotional…

And you look at them and see only flaws

That do not meet your standard of perfection…

Because they symbolise the hardships…

And failures and all the imperfections I embody.

 

These scars…

And as my shutting eyes fall upon these scars…

I feel it all again… And then I remember…

These scars are the trophies I carry from my battles.

They are the proof that I am more than a conqueror.

And you too will one day recognise me by the scars you have me,

Because they remind me not only of what I’ve been through…

They remind me that I survived.

 

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