pale white lines

there i was
twisted up
breathing into every sensation 
my straining limbs had to offer

one hand rooted on the mat,
the other flying high above
when i spied it- a white crescent scar 
outlined on my foot.

vaguely i could remember pain
it must have bled,
stopping me in my tracks
but the story behind the scar was lost.

how many painful days
are like that pale white line?

searing failures
blindsiding breakups
hot, angry tears
and sharp words we didn't mean

overpowering in the moment,
but fated to pass
giving way to healed skin
and forward motion.

may we all
recall the scars 
but not get lost in the stories
rooted to earth, reaching ever upward.

special thanks to Taisiia Stupak for this poem's featured image
Instagram: @taiamint @mintaart

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