Relief in Scars
A hundred thousand cracks I trace, Across this worn and weathered space. A map of fights long gone and passed, Upon a body built to last. Here, stories shout and whispers play— The ghosts of every yesterday.
A hundred thousand cracks I see, And millions more that hide from me. I worry they will grow and break, Until there's nothing left to ache; Until the well of grief runs dry, With nothing left for me to cry.
A hundred thousand cracks I touch, I've loved these jagged edges much. Through every wound and ancient scar, I see exactly who you are. I try to close them with my will, And hope that love can keep them still.
A hundred thousand cracks I kiss, They tremble at a touch like this. They shudder, crumble, veer, and sink, But with my tears, I’ll make them shrink. I’ll bathe the dust until it’s clay, To keep the breaking point at bay.
A hundred thousand cracks I hug, Against the world’s relentless tug. I pull them close with all my might, To keep the pieces bound and tight. I know the lines may never mend, But I will hold them to the end.