"One day I realised I had scars in the shape of wings" ~ S.C Lourie
Scars carved by the sharpened edges of misspoken words. Web-like fissures that crawl and spread across heart and soul at the very mention of a name, a time, a memory. These are the boundaries crossed without consent. The severed ties at another's hands. The fractured family portraits. These are the connections you could not meet. The support that never rose up. The needs that went unanswered. These are the mistakes we let define us. The choices we can't unmake. The dreams we let die. These are the hardened stones of unshed tears. The silent prayers so loud you can't think straight. The words you never let dance off your tongue.
These form the "scars in the shape of wings".
There are glass shards inside me, trying to pierce their way out. Trying to help me heal. Trying to make their mark. I'm not there yet. I can't see through them. I can't see the lesson or the blessing on the other side. They're opaque and cloudy; tarnished by fears, regrets, what ifs and whys.
I know that the time will come. When the glass becomes clear. When the flesh gives way, as the pain breaks through. I know, because I've been there before. I know because I have the scars.
"Scars in the shape of wings".
It is our scars that give us flight. That make us fight harder, live bigger, feel deeper. The lessons in the sorrows that if allowed, will blossom into gratitude. Gratitude for the awareness and the knowing that comes from living and breathing through that which we thought would destroy us. It is this wonderful, colourful tapestry of the human experience that gives us wings.