Scars

Fingers graze 

translucent

raised skin,

 

while shame

buries in 

my twisting gut.

 

Eyes flicker outwards,

a pink ribbon

pinned on a bag.

 

The acute scream 

of a toddler

calls out.

 

It brings a memory –

Hospital gowns,

a mother lost. –

 

“Shhh, baby. You

will never

lose yours.”

 

Fingers graze 

translucent

raised skin, 

 

shame surrenders to

pride and

the gut settles.

 

Note: This poem is part of our Fall 2020 Print Edition that focuses on Women Health and Sexuality. Look across campus for a paper copy of this edition!

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