I heard a wood-thrush in the dusk
Twirl three notes and make a star
My heart that walked with bitterness
Came back from very far.
Three shining notes were all he had,
And yet they made a starry call–
I caught life back against my breast
And kissed it, scars and all.
Sometimes the scars that we carry in our hearts are the very things that make them beautiful. It is the shape of those marbled lines that are part of the story of a life, a delicate filigree of experience. It is the whole life that is a masterpiece not just the individual moments of agony or triumph.
What flavor does your life have?