The Dead Don't Form Scars
by Todd Matson
Memorials left in skin
by cuts and gashes from
broken glass, playing on
monkey bars, falling from
bicycles and trampolines,
colliding on soccer fields
where pain once hijacked
game faces, where wounds
penetrated several layers
of young, innocent skin.
Tears dry. Scars remember.
Hidden scars telescoping
back to seasons of life
when symptoms of anxiety,
panic, depression, guilt,
shame, anger, self-loathing,
body dysmorphia, mistrust,
perfectionism, fear of intimacy,
sense of impending doom
took center stage – derivatives
which make sense only when
traced back to hidden origins
– unspoken traumas hiding
in plain sight like colors seen
only under ultraviolet light.
Lit cigarettes sadistically
pressed against arms, legs,
torso at ages too young
to remember, burning
through the epidermis
into the dermis, littering
skin with scars that resemble
smallpox vaccines. Strange
how the body remembers
what the mind can’t.
Self-hate carved into arms,
legs and neck like cornrows.
Cuts self-inflicted to release
endorphins, feel numb, detour
mental and emotional anguish
through flesh for momentary
relief, to make the abstract
concrete, the intangible
tangible, to incarnate
the unremitting and unbearable
in scars that vicariously
remember what feels best
forgotten.
Despair engraved on
the underside of wrists.
Fibrous fossils of short
horizontal slashes, of
long vertical slices
meticulously following
arteries up forearms,
shouting through a
megaphone what
semicolons whisper.
Track marks archiving
a history of enslavement
to the pursuit of fleeting
synthetic heavenly bliss
speckling arms, hands,
feet, legs, neck, wherever
arteries are found. Raised,
hardened, discolored skin.
Darkened lines from veins
collapsing after being
needled to death. Holes,
indentations where dirty
needles invaded, skin died
and departed. Thin lines
around skin grafts now
conspicuously concealing
and revealing horrors that
once were but are no longer.
Battle scars. Bullet wounds,
limbs stapled and sutured
at stubs adjacent to phantom
pains where arms, legs, hands
and feet used to be. Chemical
burns to skin, lungs. Post-
concussion scars seen only
on MRIs. Post-traumatic
scars that live on long after
battles end. Scars visible,
invisible, refusing to stay
silent, telling of heroic
sacrifices, sharing secrets
words refuse to tell.
Scars from battles fought
at home when death comes
knocking. Train tracks
running 8 to 10 inches
straight down the center
of the chest, 4 to 6 inches
horizontally across the chest,
diagonally from sternum
to armpit where breasts
used to be, 2 to 3 inches
along the lower right
abdomen. Scars chosen
to protect a beating heart,
remove rogue cells bent
on killing, prevent rupture,
peritonitis, sepsis, death.
Scars documenting in
human flesh stories of
fighting spirits, journeys
from victim to survivor.
And then there are scars
formed by mortal wounds
when death is deprived of
having the last word. Victims
of accidents and violence
who bled to death, stopped
breathing, amazingly returned
to life by CPR, defibrillators,
intubation, blood transfusions.
Yes, even mortal wounds form
scars when death is deprived
of having the last word.
Nail-scarred hands, feet.
A scar in his side from
being impaled by a spear.
Our Lord bled out and
died. We buried him in
a tomb. Miraculously,
he rose to life again with
scars to prove it was him.
He died and rose again
for us. By his wounds, by
his scars we are healed.
Celebrate your scars,
for they are proof of life.
Badges of honor. Signs
of resiliency. Artifacts of
truth buried seven layers
deep that once discovered
set us free. Declarations
that death and despair do
not have the last word.
Your scars no longer
speak for you. You speak
for your scars. You lived.
Your wounds have been
transformed into scars,
and your scars have been
transformed into a source
of hope and healing for
others. For only the forces
of life can form a scar. The
dead don’t form scars.
***
Todd Matson is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist in North Carolina. His poetry has been published in The Journal of Pastoral Care and Counseling, Mindfull Magazine, and has been featured in Poetry for Mental Health. He has also written lyrics for songs recorded by a number of contemporary Christian music artists, including The Gaither Vocal Band.
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