The thin white line
That lies on the surface
Gives but a hint
Never All, just a trace
You can follow
Its path with your eyes, or
Fingertips which
Palpate that path and course
But it cannot
Tell the entire tale
Of what occurred
Under that line now pale
With time it may
Fade and blend, with the skin
Surrounding it
But you know that within
The adhesions grip
And grow and hold fast to
The tissue around
Whenever you move you
Feel the tugging
You will never be free
Experience
That shapes your history
But those who know
Whom we have let inside
Who held our hand
Wiped the tears that we cried
Understand it
Cherish that tender mark
See the beauty
Remind us to take heart
That this is but
A trial, one more thing
To pass, and when
We survive suffering
It is transformed
From pain to love and we
Are given more
Ever growing empathy
So that our scar
And our pain is converted
Into a gift
That can’t be perverted
It is our choice
To overcome and live
And is healing
To others whom we give
Grace unmeasured
Poured out freely along
Those small white lines
Which our eyes rest upon
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