Cicatrix manet

I’ve been called many a name

            Spat out in spite

Carefully aimed at this steel target of a man

Often silent through injury

Only fighting within myself

            To not flinch

            Grimace

            Or allow their sounds to moisturize my eyes

 

At this hour before dawn when would-be foes recharge

            Curled within soft, sweet-smelling sheets

The ache of fresh and ancient wounds bleed together

Their echoes reawaken sensitivities to cruelties

And they’re catalogued for future reference

 

For I know very well

Although I shall mend—

            The scar remains

When I’ve been called out of my name


Comments:
 
Jan   Jan wrote
on 8/20/2009 7:41:39 PM
i agree power is always higher than anything else..this is definitely a striking poem with a disturbing thought..but sadly that thought is so true..

Trenchtownrock   Trenchtownrock wrote
on 8/20/2009 5:51:09 PM
I know this poem very well....the strong shall rise above all adversity and overcome the tongues that tries to decapitate confidence...one love soldier.

jlew1973
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writing jlew1973
"It could be better, but it's good enough."
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Synopsis
Cicatrix manet = The scar remains (Latin)
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