When my mother died it was her body that was full of scars – a life full of minor accidents and mishaps – the slightly crooked finger from the broken jam jar, and in later years surgery scars; the question mark on her back where a melanoma was removed, the lump out of her leg.
When my cat died, it was my body full of scars; well cuts and scratches. She fought tooth and nail to the end (literally!)
They both refused to eat. This was a symptom of the disease, but also, to my mind, an act of defiance; one thing they had control over. They were both indomitable souls.
But don’t anyone tell my mum I compared her to a cat – she couldn’t stand them!
scarred for life
jam jar that broke
circa 1972?
me on the floor,
reading no doubt
scarred for life
that tumble in the rain
Norwich… 1988?
laughing, in the end
over wine bottles smashed
scarred for life
the ‘secret’ fall
broken nose
skin all torn
don’t worry I won’t tell
scarred for life
tumour removed
skin graft, Germolene pink
long skirts and trousers
hide a multitude of sins
scarred for life
not much more
the question mark on your back
the black mole on your neck
your body growing slowly cold
Naomi Young 