By Diana Wanamaker
Scars tell stories. Sometimes they show themselves on the outside, visibly laying on the surface of our skin. Lying there in all it’s mystery. No longer with the intensity of it’s first entry, but a shadow, a whisper of what once was. It mutter’s a gentle reminder, just as a picture tucked away in box of photo’s. A subject of conversation of those who ask it’s reticent display.
Some scars can heed a recall of close calls turned well, evoking laughter today. Other scars tell tale’s of dark secrets of life gone wrong, desperately seeking an end to the pain of it all. Sometimes scars reveal scars of love, scars that remind you of loved ones gone, scars of youth, of age, or the risk it took to save another. No matter it’s origin or arrival, there lays a story to be told.
Scars that lay visibly on the temples of our body that tell accounts of the journey of this thing called life.
So you can swish away the internal scars and hide their stories. But on the skin of life, with violins playing, drums rolling and the triangle tingling its announcement, there lies a small piece of your world……the visible scar.
Copyright April 2015. All Rights Reserved