Wearing My Scars

All my life 

I have met people 

wearing scars 

We tend to look away 

or glance past them 

Some scars serve as reminders 

Of reckless adventures 

Of youthful indiscretions 

And acts of foolishness or heroism 

Some are boldly displayed 

Others, deeply hidden 

But we all wear scars 

Now — do not mistake me —
I am not speaking
of the marks I carry 

I mean the scars
others bear
because of my words and actions 

The wounds
from my sharp and jagged words
When I spoke carelessly
Acted recklessly
Or, God forbid, maliciously 

When my inhumanity 

Exceeded my humanity 

When I struck out 

Intent on harm 

I have traced them in my memory

lost the words 

But not the heartless intent 

Though time 

Has faded the wound 

The raised edges remain 

As a silent testimony 

That I was there 

While I cannot unmake the mark 

Or restore the unbroken skin 

I can walk more gently 

Speak more carefully 

Act more compassionately 

I can choose to be a healer 

instead of a blade— 

and let my hands 

apply the balm 

to those still wearing my scars 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

August 10, 2025