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THE SKIN THAT I’M IN
The skin that I’m in, brown & scarred, sometimes ashy
The skin that I’m in, does not lie—if you look, really look, it tells my story.
Once upon a time it was paper thin, like the skin of a tomato, delicate,
born with a birthmark the color of a butterscotch lifesaver.
My first scrape of the knee, I thought I would die, but then this wonderful
scab formed & when picked off, it left a mark, my first mark of battle.
Tasting my blood for the first time—exhilarating-fearless, feeling immortality.
My skin surprised me, every bruise, every cut, every scratch (self-inflicted or not) always
healed, amazing. With every new mark on my delicate, brown skin, I formed layers
like an unpeeled onion. Those layers formed a thick skin (so I thought).
As I aged the scars got more severe & the skin was like Sir Lancelot’s armor & shield.
It was like Superman’s chest, bullets ricocheting everywhere. Little did I know, all that
protection did not apply to my brain, my mentality, & my emotions—they were left
wide open for attack from the enemy (ME).
The skin I’m in has endured so much pain for 2 lifetimes, yet it is still protecting me,
till so soft to the touch.
Diane Dawson |
“I wrote ‘The Skin That I’m In’ at three o’clock in the morning. I was looking at the wrinkles in my face and the marks and scars on my body—and this poem came out. I’m glad to share it, because it talks about something I think a lot of people can relate to.
