They remind us of where we’ve been, what we’ve done and what we’ve lived through. Big or small; they all have a story. Real or unseen; they sometimes never heal. Nothing looks the same again now the rose-tinted glasses have fallen.
The tissue that covers the once exposed wound is like the denial you live in everyday; it covers the bad but still shouts out for attention. like a tattooist you gave them permission to cut into you, deep, leaving an everlasting mark on your history. On your being. On every hope you ever had. We can look at the irreversible scars as bars we are trapped behind. The lines we once crossed and can’t erase. The marks made we didn’t see until etched too dark to delete. We see the history on our skin everyday; play it though our minds interwoven with shattered dreams. I pull down my cuff, my sleeve is my silver lining. I no longer fear the past. The damage is done; it is not bigger than me. It’s as big as I allow it to be. The rain stops and the sun peeks from behind the smallest cloud. The rays nourish me, the scar isn’t as ugly anymore, it fades with the impending hope. We grow from our past. I am bigger and stronger than my past will ever be. The path we have led winds back and away. You can move forward.
They are the map of the past. Leading us into a clearer future.
Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com
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