She Wrought with Pale Scars

She Wrought with Pale Scars

A Poem by Arly Parent

How can one be warm steel and wrought iron
all at once made of flesh and soul scars
and the silence just before the death of old stars?

...And there Are scars
small and varied,
long and thin,
and deep--
pale reminders, leaving ghost-silver traces up the back of her hands to the tips of her fingers.

and with this...
she wrought

she wrought worlds of earthen men,
city denizens
stories of ice and flame,
of fatherhood
and daughterdom
oflifeandstruggleandpainandself-doubtandloathingandfearandwonderandmagicandheart...and of hope...
...for others
but in the barest whisper...of hope for herself
She wrought

from the sounds of crunching metal
and the screech of a broken heart

She wrought

from the fears of every daughter
at the sight of broken men
the tears of every lover 
without love
once again

from the eyes of every dreamer
and the shades of paths unwalked
to the roughly fingered path
where the innocent was stalked.

They stand, still today
pale strands string from work to fingertip
up the webbed, grey lines
interconnected--a lattice upon lattice upon framework of scars
in a near-permanent state of flux
opening and closing and stopping... 
at the quick

© 2014 Arly Parent

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Added on March 12, 2014
Last Updated on April 23, 2014
Tags: Poetess, Poet, Girl, Scars, Muse, Writing, Past, Hurt, Growth, Perseverance, Heartache, Loss, Sweetness, Layers, Barriers, Walls


Arly Parent
Arly Parent

Lantana, FL

There's nothing about me. I play with pauses as well as silence. I write words, assign meanings and junk, and play with a language that might be as much my own as another. I don't know. more..