Scars

On
my skin,
every scar tells
a story of struggles
survived.

 

- my hat and I had been doing some gardening, when I opened the door to receive a pharmacy delivery. I’m not sure if the delivery person was trying not to stare at my ginormous hat (maybe worried about not being able to escape its gravitational pull). Anyway, while trying to avoid the hat, the delivery person lowered their eyes, and their gaze landed on the not-so-wee scar left behind by my port-a-cath; and they totally froze, which is how I knew they were looking at the scar. To ease the tension, I said, “I got this one during a fight to the death. My enemy didn’t survive my ferocious chemical attacks.” The delivery person did not seem to care much for my chemotherapy jokes. Either that, or they were smiling deep, deep, really deep… under their mask. 🤔

- for Poets and Storytellers United --Weekly Scribblings #78: Micro-writings.

Scars Are Armor

 embraced scars
make the best armor
of living

via

- originally shared last year, right before the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, the blog where I first shared my poetry, closed. Thankfully, the site remains open as an archive, so I didn’t wail too violently. Still, I do miss it...  I wrote this senryū for a prompt where Rommy asked for poems brewed out of “words to live by”. I chose the words scars and armor. And since I just got a brand new scar, it feels just right to re-share this bit on Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #35: Change Happens (for the Better, Let’s Hope) Aug, 2020)