My scars that have healed are my war wounds, that you will never know about. I have fought in too many battles, but I train myself to talk less and less about the wars I have fought through. The wars have lost their meaning and their reason, and I have lost the need to identify myself through my journeys past them. I know it is peace time now, and I relax for the first time in a small window of time that does not know pain or the weariness of the battle, a bit wary of the quiet. I try not to be the old warhorse but I reveal myself through my experience in my most unguarded moments.
I feel my scars at times. They do not ache anymore. Sometimes, I search for them only to find they have vanished. The old wounds are almost invisible, hidden away in time, the new ones hardly scratch my skin. I pretend I have only always known peace and if you do not know me, you will believe it too of me. For the scars I carry today, are healed by the armour of self-care I now wear. You will never be allowed past my armour to feel the scars that I carry no more. The scars that have healed from countless battles for me to survive and come into peace. For, I am simply an old warhorse that survived to tell the tale of peace.
- SS 10/4/2017