Beneath the Wave

Comfort in the scars

I trace the scars on my wrist

like I used to trace the veins in my dads hands. 

I would run my fingers across raised blue lines, stretch the wrinkles around them, and then I would lace our fingers together, and find comfort in the familiar. 

You can find love in the strangest of places-

And by this I don't mean Wendy's parking lots, or, the back seat of a New York city cab. 

I found love in the imperfections of my fathers hands. 

The wrinkles were never ugly. 

They were the comfort of a live long lived, of someone who I knew I could put my faith in. 

When I was a kid, 

I used to lay my head in my mother's lap in sacrament, 

and she would run her fingers through my hair. 

Every single Sunday, Church was a chore, 

But my mother's gentle care will be some of my fondest memories. 

And my mother hates her body. 

She hates the small circular scars on her arms caused by a man who doesn't deserve the title of 'father'. 

She hates the sun marks on her skin, a constant reminder of a life in the sky. 

She hates the extra weight upon her, an offense she cannot seem to ever get rid of. 

And when I look at my mother, I have never seen these flaws. 

I noticed them, but I never looked at these things and thought they were ugly. 

Instead, these so called "imperfections" were merely a piece of the painting, 

and we all know that the best paintings contain life in them. 

And so often we forget that comfort can be beautiful,

That, never once have I ever grown tired of seeing my mother's face, 

or, 

the wrinkles around my fathers eyes. 

Now that I am older,

I find the scars on my own body to be a familiar comfort. 

They tell the story of painful lessons learned, 

or a peek into the darkest parts of my mind, 

but they are me;

They are real and tangible and they will never depart from me. 

They are reminders of a life lived, and of monsters defeated. 

So often I feel like I am not truly here-

That I am a wandering spirit, a hostage in a broken body that is not truly mine. 

And so I trace the scars upon my arms, 

I take a deep breath,

And I remember, 

There is life here. 

And I find no greater comfort.