A few days ago, I burned
my collar bone
with a wide and sizzling
curling wand.
Next day, I spent the morning
picking oranges from my tree
(not in Venice, but charming nonetheless)
and scratched my hands up
on the fruit-filled, rough branches.
These self-inflicted wounds
look worse than they feel.
Handsome scars—evidence of
the messiness of living.
If only they were all that way.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
This reminds me of the ending of The Sun Also Rises, my favorite from among Papa's novels. Someone said that scars are just there to show the things we survived. Hopefully the things we gain outweigh the damage done in getting them.
ReplyDeleteI can echo your feelings on scars (though all our stories are unique) beautifully written - Jae
ReplyDeleteSo very true! If only one could saya that about ALL wounds.
ReplyDeleteSo true - and many scars are invisible. So well said, Jennifer.
ReplyDeletevivid slice of life here, Jen ~
ReplyDeleteMay we remember the scars but not condemn ourselves for bearing them. Well said and I love the new photos.
ReplyDeleteI love how you draw us into each scene here, Jennifer, and your almost throwaway wisdom. Wonderful last line!
ReplyDeleteThe messiness of life so brilliantly written.
ReplyDeleteI love the simple clarity of the two first stanzas, and how they set up the ending so well.
ReplyDelete