I don’t call them scars

I prefer to see them as badges of honour

For all the times I honoured myself

In the face of my attackers

 

Each time I was called upon

To defy their malice

And refused to accept their lies

I won a medal, which I pinned to my heart

 

Every tear to the fibre of my being is stitched together with a pin bearing the name of the battle fought and won

I do not have scars; I have trophies

And awards for bravery 

 

I am not scarred

I am dressed in courage

From head to toe

I am the fashionista of survival

 

The Queen of moving on

Collecting swords from foe

To hang from the buckle of my soul

I wear experience with pride

While I stick with my own tribe

 

My tribe is strong and wild

Sentient beings filled with wisdom

And a willingness to guide 

They are the seamsters

Of love and dignity

 

Respect flows through their veins

They do not have scars

They have stars and ribbons

And colours that bleed out into the world

Creating chains of connectivity

 

We are not scarred

We are the ones who know

Right from wrong

We are the ones who demanded change

The phoenix rising from the ashes

Of extinguished flames

 

We are not scarred

We are the fashionistas

From Mars. 

Clare Kinnaird, 2024.