Scars  (Oriza Martins)

On body, mainly, we expose
The signs of wound,
From damage, fatal moments,
That, sometimes, we are sociable.
The real hurt
Or innocent events,
Inconsistent wounds,
Suffering or not, we remember.

But there’s a bitter kinda
Signs that go deeply,
They are the world sadness,
Injustice we have faced,
They are love we lost
Or spot on conscience
When we, through negligence,
To other we harm.

On path of existence,
These harder wounds
Quiet in our lives,
That our tranquility they shatter,
They form tense provocation,
Hush stronger on us,

They are executioner of mind,
They are scars in the soul...

The scars on body
Easier to control,
They are easy to deal with
Or to get them made up...
However, metaphysic pains
Difficult to disguise,
Are stubborn to bear them
And the souls fragile...

These pains in spirit,
From an unmistakable suffering,
Not always wasn’t possible to me
Extirpated by roots...
So I follow my way,
Long road to walk,
We learn to live together
With my own scars...