I’ve been taking a creative writing course (‘Creative Writing as Spiritual Reflection’ at Trinity College in Glasgow) since January, and it’s been a spot of color and inspiration during a very bleak winter. Here’s one small piece of my writing that can’t decide if it’s a poem or an essay.
Scanning for scars
Is the wounded self the writing self?
Is it true what my poetry professor would say?
‘Keep touching the place
in the back of your mouth that hurts’ –
and there –
there will you find the words
to express everything
that’s made you who you are:
the struggles and pain,
and upsets and downfalls.
The lessons that have broken
and reshaped your heart.
The experiences that have caused you to
cry out in despair to a God that you’re not quite sure
is listening.
And there, in the depths of your own shadow,
as you visit memories
that you’ve closed the door on,
will you find truths about your past
and future.
As I reach into the back of my mouth
I’m reminded exactly of the thread
that’s held everything together:
of the god who also
knows pain –
of the god who also –
has wounds.
Who knows my suffering
as his own.
The god who weeps in the garden,
the one who cries out:
‘Why have you forsaken me?’
And his wounds…
they give me hope.
I remember that I don’t have to
carry this pain alone.
I know that my scars
and brokenness
point to where I’ve been
how I’ve grown
and how I will keep going.
So I will keep examining
my body,
scanning for scars that
speak to my identity –
for wounds that teach
me who I am.
And I’ll put pen to paper
and try to understand
these words that echo the past
and lead me home.
"Among thy green braes" 