“scars’ tale”
Every mark is a country
I once crossed barefoot.
Some borders burned, others bloomed.
I trace them in the mirror,
not as shame, but as proof—
I have traveled farther than
fear ever thought I could.
Every mark is a country
I once crossed barefoot.
Some borders burned, others bloomed.
I trace them in the mirror,
not as shame, but as proof—
I have traveled farther than
fear ever thought I could.
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Comments1
In a literal sense this poem paints a picture but metaphorically a far different one. Our travels in life are marked in our memory. Nicely done
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