My P.a.D. Day 13 – entry

I will have to admit – today’s poem isn’t actually one I wrote today. This was the day of the Barton Rees Pogue Poetry & Arts festival. The story behind my entry is that I worked for more than a month to refine my poem, finally picked up an entry form at the library, and prepared it to mail in. Right as I was filling out the new form, I saw that there was a theme… and poems didn’t have to follow this theme. Mine didn’t, but I decided to enter it anyhow – and the three winners did. But I was glad I had the chance to read mine, as that’s where my thoughts had been. (Many other people read great poems also!. What was really fun was that my husband also read a poem that he had written – it was great!) Now that we know they have a theme each year, we’ll find this out in March so that we have time to prepare.

My favorite thing about today was actually from the “arts” part of the competition. Our daughter Emily entered four of her clay dragons (and a turtle for good measure) in the “youth” part of the competition. Not only were her dragons phenomenal in design, with many compliments, but she won “best in show” in her division! This was in competition with high school AP art students.

Okay, enough about Em’s wonderful dragons… as promised, I’ll share my poem here.

Scars

M.S.
Multiple Sclerosis.
Many Scars.
a Misbehaving System is what I call it.
You can call it what you wish.

Cells that should kill germs harm others instead, and what do they leave behind?
Scars.
What do they take away?
Energy. Control. Ability. Freedom.
“It’s all in your head,” you say.
And I agree.

With scars in my head,
I sometimes wonder what’s left.
Besides scars.
But then I hear an inner voice, one of assurance:

“Scars are not alone. When you look, you’ll find unexpected gifts:
The gift of empathy to offer an ear to hear of invisible pain, filled with frustration and hard to see with the outer eye.
The gift of peace beyond understanding, easier to feel when busy-ness is forced aside and stillness found.
The gift of love you’ll feel as dear ones see through and beyond your scars, and the truest love, shown through one whose scars bring new life.”

M.S.
More than Scars.
That’s what I call it.
You can call it what you wish.