In This Skin: A Reclamation

I have a story to tell, silently and without words: 

'Tis a map laid bare

past drapes of fabric

and layers of armour

and bandages.

Can I trust you

to see past the curves and twists and turns,

the zigzags and crisscrosses invisible

but defining?

Beneath both smooth, unblemished surface

and raised, jagged scar tissue,

dark shadows and fiery bursts of colours mark my skin.

Tattooes etched by

nameless and faceless

artists' hands bring into being

what I cannot say:

This imperfect body is far from beautiful,

but there can be beauty in ugliness
so long as you listen to the story it has to tell.

I am a survivor.