For Shame

She wore only her beauty
and worry
a Pixie like carved cedar
offering herself
to me.

But not yet
not yet.

Her finger traced a cruel scar
a lightning bolt
from rib to pelvis.

“This is my shame.”

A tiny girl retrieved from Death’s agenda
by skilled hands with brave minds
forever marked
forever different

Her eyes told of other men
walking away
Fuckers all.

Kneeling at her feet
I studied her belly with
my hands.

“This is no shame
this is life
this let you be here
so it is beautiful to me.”

Lips pressed
to the beginning
I followed the scar’s storyline
to its conclusion.

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