So Our Scars

I’d rather rejoice
In what I have,
but how escape
wanting more than what is here–
and that razor knife
of disappointment.

Before I can tend the cuts,
I must feel them.
I want to rejoice in what’s
not lost.
I want to let

what rises alive
from the dust of disappointment
take up all my heart–
But first I must whisper love
to every nick and slash.

Life has shown me I must change.
I cringe. I forgive myself.
I face my fears.
When I am forgotten,
I remember myself.

When I am dismissed,
I own the old fears, I stroke
and assuage them.
Let the mending begin,
I receive the power

of my healing.
As the wounds and craters
of Grandmother moon
make her even more beautiful,
so our scars make us.

©Susa Silvermarie 2022