Scars

I wrote this for my beautiful sister Lindsay. She is such an example of strength and faith.

Scars

My finger traces across my skin
Pale lines where a wound has been
Each has a story of some sort of length
Marks of my weakness and of my strength

We start as a canvas, perfect and new
And life paints our portraits with lines and with hues
Our stories are etched in a series of marks
Seemingly subtle and jaggedly stark

Each mark was gained with some kind of trial
Tribute to sacrifice and of survival
The angry lines fade from across my skin
A constant reminder of changes within

My body and face, unique in design
Won’t follow the beauty the world defines
The wrinkles and scars that TV abhors
Are proof of my love for those I adore

When my body is old and my portrait is done
My scars tell the tale of fights I have won
Each tells a story of some kind of length
Not marks of my weakness, but proof of my strength


By Jaymie Quigley
Written 10-18-09 For my sister Lindsay

I also want to add the thought that inspired me to write this was the realization that when Jesus Christ was resurrected and His body was made perfect He kept the scars on His hands, feet, and side. He kept them as a reminder and proof of His sacrifice for those he loved.