Scars

Lay them before me Like sticks of uneven length, I will not judge. All those paper cuts on your fingers, Bruises that hug your knees and elbows, Wounds that bleed under a blackened sky. Lay them all before me As I unveil my unkempt locks of insanity, My shortcomings, My bitter premonitions and how sometimes They come as naked reality. But judge me not as I lay before you The erosion of my soul –One that has endured turmoil so silent That even the hair on my chest did not hear. Judge me not That I awake with hope, And sleep in hopelessness, Or that my countenance lightens up In your presence and my knees rattle With insecurity as you near me; Judge me not for how ready I am To embrace your thunderstorm, Or how willingly my heart yearns To calm your winds.

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