I welcome the scars

I don’t wish them to be,
but I welcome the scuffs
and stains and scratches
on beloved items in my home.
Signs of use, of love, 
of abundant life.

It’s only material
serving us well.

I don’t seek them out,
but I welcome the scars.
The lines and circles 
this body sews, 
witness to the stories
I keep.

It’s only a body
meant for use.

And though I don’t solicit them,
I, too, welcome the cracks on my heart.
Marks of falling all in, 
over and over, 
of fighting for the good,
and learning a little late.

It’s only a heart
its purpose to reach, its duty to try again.