Every cut, every scrape,
Every tear and every 
misgivings we have;
Each heartbreak,
Are etched into our bodies.

The first time I had brain surgery,
At 10 months young,
Mum said she had to hold me so tight,
for hours after,
I screamed until I was done.
Fighting the body tremors.
Eventually, I calmed as she sang.

Other scars came, later in life,
heroes of sporting accidents,
But I didn't notice.
Until the AVM surgery in my 30’s
Resulting in a devastating stroke,
After a novel surgeon made a wrong poke,
And a 40-day coma ensued.

Eventually, waking up numb, in shock,
All senses lost;
I couldn't hear,
See, walk or talk.
Shut down; hell.
No tears, murmurs, gargles or squawks,
Just numbness.

Even now, as I write, my body remembers, 
Sending shivers and tremors 
Of that dreadful season.
Eventually, I walked,
Re-learned how to talk,
Accept my pain, and joy, as I regained 
Mobility, hearing and eyesight,
But the grief is still stored in my heart.

Through poetry, I've tried,
To make sense of and write
Every grain and offence,
To help me build in strength.

I pay homage.
To you, my body,
Tested and true,
Though no beauty queen,
You are a machine,
That doesn't give up,
But writes a new score;
One of the treasures I adore
When I open my eyes and see
The wonders in this world.