The Heart’s Cicatrix
Deep in the core of a thick-coated seed
Is a dormant, delicate budding tree.
Be gentle when you touch it, and take heed,
‘Tis frail to the rough hands and unwary.
Seeds like vernal hearts need a caring hand.
So be careful my friend, don’t break any.
The scar you would leave you should understand,
Would be engraved in the heart and would stay.
As I observe the trees’ cicatrices,
I, too, am reflecting upon my scars.
My chest from outside has no blemishes.
But inside I’m bruised, countless like the stars.
‘Tis when I look upon the trees closer,
And only when I peek deep inside me
That my heart’s cicatrix I discover,
Is the secret of my soul’s true beauty.
part of seed series poetry, 011006 ~ Jeques