This angry red line will fade
As will the slow burn of transient pain
Becoming a faint memory that I’ll laugh about
Dismissing the whole event as inconsequential
I’ll cavalierly gloss over the memory
Because it will be as forgotten as yesterday’s rain
But part of me will always live here
Remembering the truth of the thin white scar
How it was when it was raw red
When I was as vulnerable as any Old Testament offering
Finding cruel mercy in a scalpel’s edge
Learning that miracles come at a cost
Counted in a currency of suffering
David Trudel © 2013
