Scars

I scan my hands, my fingers,
searching carefully, almost lovingly,
for scars from games long past.
Searching for evidence that I am still myself and not
somebody else in somebody else’s body.

I scan my mind, my memories,
playing carefully, slowly, warily,
with scars from loves long lost.
Playing with emotions that show I still know how to feel
and how to hold another’s heart close to mine.

I scan my heart, my feelings,
hiding carefully, some say stupidly,
from scars from hopes long tossed.
Hiding from the knowledge that I own my own destiny
and my scars are my guide to the road ahead.