When I Was But a Child

I have scars from when I was but a child

The days when I was allowed to be reckless and wild

And amidst tragedies I didn’t yet understand, I smiled

And I never knew the novel I’d become was being compiled

 

I have scars from when I was a young man

With confidence and ignorance to say, “Yes, I can”

I saw many things from which I should have ran

Facing lions and demons, armed with a frying pan

 

I am earning my scars now, as an adult

I am learning that not all flaws are my fault

I am learning how easy it is to vault

The heart of my childhood, jaded with salt

 

And some day, when I am old and gray

I’ll soften a bit, and in patience, decay

This patina of wisdom should not harden with age

But should cause me to look at my hands and say,

 

“I have scars from when I was but a child”