I’m in recovery.
I sat down to write a poem about the injuries I’ve sustained,
Both the physical and the mental,
How they slow me down and hamper me,
From being what I once was.
But halfway through I wrote it anew,
For the aches and pains I carry,
Are the marks of a life well-lived.
I wanted to give my scars special meaning,
But I’m not sure that much is true.
My limp and my aches are constant reminders,
Of the miles I’ve covered,
And the victories and losses,
But mostly they are ghostlike memories,
Now etched forever into my being.
