Old Wounds

This piece is one I wrote about two years ago for a friend. It came to mind recently because I've realized I'm still battling old scars. Scars I thought I mended and healed. There are also scars I've ignored to the point of deep suppression that I cannot recall its details. But somehow someway, what we don't confront continues to fester and rise to the surface--regardless of the time that has passed. Funny thing though...suppression is not healing. It is a deceiving and torturous devil that can trick us into believing that the scar is gone because you don't see it or speak of it. It can make you believe that forgetting is forgiving. But not so. I'm learning that you cannot heal what you do not confront. Admission is the first step in healing. The second step is confrontation. And confrontation leads to the self-actualization that despite the pain, you made it through. It's the process that's the most painful. But making it across the bridge, while visualizing yourself on the other side is the greatest reward. I've lived through the pain of loving someone who's crushed my spirit. I've lived through being so selfish in my own misery that I invited negative things into my life that only brought temporary satisfaction. I've lived through neglect, unforgiveness, abuse and many other countless things that are too numerous to recite in this post. But the great thing about waking up today and the days beforehand is that God gives me another opportunity to get it right! To walk closer to Him, to challenge myself, to dream and to put all talents He has given me into action! But only if I let Him. And I cannot do what I was created to do unless I forgive myself, others and my past. That means stop suppressing the scars and looking at myself in the mirror with truth on how to be a better me in words, actions and deeds. No excuses, just choices.

Scars (For Mei)

I thought I mended that scar yesterday,
But its still open, still bleeding, and in need of healing.
I covered it with a band-aid
but my aid couldn't band the sickness on hand.
I covered my scar with the cutest jeans my money couldn’t buy
and pacified the soreness with liquid absorption
I sipped the sweetest juices for an internal solution
but that wouldn’t help my internal contusion.
The makeup didn’t help, it only made it worse.
It was so obvious what I was trying to cover up.
That long-staying LipGlass
couldn’t outlast,
my mascara ran and so did I.
Even Queen’s Collection didn’t keep me collected
and that SPF inserted?
Didn’t keep me protected.
My lack of healing became debilitating to me
I tried to hide it even from close friends and family
It became such a part of me
it became a part of me
the pain became an everyday thing to me
its longevity became a certainty,
its side-effects seemed a finality
These lines speak in past tense
but my scar is still every present
Still searching for that cure
that’ll make my healing permanent.