Wounds Into Scars

Wounds Into Scars by Odin Roark It takes not a wise man to know What we resist Will persist So goes the healing process Just as a tree With its heart and initial carvings Carries its scars with little notice So too might we carry our own Those verbal Physical Spiritual Lacerations Often a suffering performance As if they were for public view The small child knows early “Kiss the booboo” And mothers are quick to reinforce The child’s need But as we grow We forget the essence of a mother’s care The mother’s empowering way To repair with love Instead Many wear pain and sorrow on their lapels Trusting a confused society Often glorifying pain Placing many an open wound Before audience-sympathy Unknowingly substituting exploitation For the teachings of maternal empathy How wanting one’s instincts can become Innate reaction to hurt Once serviced by natural response Too often succumbs to ego pampering Rather than seeking the axiom therein That place where accepting the hurt Seduces pain into questioning Bringing to bear The precarious courage To learn the lesson Of self-love’s curative Might it be Like mother nature’s engraved trees At any age affliction reminds us Growing is still the purpose Injuries and scars inevitable Like the tree Perhaps it’s really a question Of how we absorb And treat ourselves From within