I have scars on my ankles and my hips
but I refuse to wear jeans in summer.
So many girls, covered in marks of their sorrow,
they cover themselves up
out of shame.

Don't.
They are beautiful.
Not that one should endeavor to make more,
and if I could, I would hold the hands of any one who ever wanted to sink something into their skin
out of loneliness, fear, misery.
If I could, I would kiss the marks and make those dark times go away.

But I cannot.

Those events,
carved out in history and your skin,
they are you,
your sorrows, your tragedies.
And they are a brand of courage, screaming
I was there,
and I made it back.  
That is important to show,
and when my children ask why I have so many little strands on my creamy white legs,
I will tell them just what happened
so they can learn from their mother
and they maybe,
just maybe,
can hold some one's hand
and help them through the times
that they were lonely,
frightened,
miserable.