Scars

Every scar has a story
Whatever it may be
Great tales can be told as we study
The rings of the great oak tree

Scars become an archive
They remind us where we've been
As I survey my collection
The past becomes real again

Not all scars are visible
Some stay hidden inside
And remain secret, except to a few
In whom the bearer confides

I know of a set of scars
Older than the great oak tree
They serve as a sacred record
Of a price paid for you and me

Those scars call out to remind me
That whatever wounds I may gain
Because of the story behind those scars
My scars don't have to remain