‘Harm in Haste’: A Lived Experience Poem

By Amy Wizard Ponter.

These marks I carry are not created for pity
They are not a talking piece 
Nor are they intended to draw your eye 
To illicit revulsion or to repel 

I see you edge away, an impressively minuscule manoeuvre 
The energy shift of a sudden but carefully curated move 
Yet, your recoil, so slight, so subtle 
A fog horn of sadness to the core of the one who reads your language 

One seeks not your reaction or your alarm 
You gulp the information rapidly, but yet your swift judgement fails to see 
You absorb in haste the scars you notice 
Drawing your conclusions: assumptions aplenty 

Pause. A moment. These trails of carnage were not created for you 
Not for your attention, your shock, your alteration of tone 
Your gentle almost invisible movement away, creating significant dismay 
One seeks not your silent questioning or wonderings galore 
‘Whatever did she do that for?’ 

Evidence there is, injuries through time 
Recoiling will not enable understanding, or digestion of truth 
Unintentional attention obtained, questions could be asked 
Yet the thin veil of carelessness takes over, which you attempt to mask 
Disassociate from the one before you, whose scars are deeper than you know 
Add to them, go ahead, with your erroneous judgements in tow 

Interpreting your actions, the injured is harmed further still 
Conclusions and summaries reached, your voice heard loud and clear 
Albeit silently provided, as if whispered into one’s troubled ear 
However, the person before you harmed is injured once again 
Now that you have seen what you saw, you could set summations aside 
See beyond if you will, respect the human before your eyes 

Too late, summary made, no chance to be something other now 
No longer a person, no potential of depth to explore, no story, no tale 
Seeing only the evidential marks of harm, self-inflicted, you need see or ask no more 
Small minded, brash, dismissive, oh the additional layer of hurt so caused 

Respectfully, one wishes to be seen, but not for their injuries alone 
We all of us carry scars – inflicted through the meanders of time 
Perchance deeply rooted, internalised or outside ourselves in physical form 
Life harms us all, all of us damaged, all flawed 

Imperfections we carry, no matter whosoever we are 
Embrace the whole and not only this one small part 
All of us many layers of messy complications and pain 
Some you will see; some not. Some you will know; some hidden and full of shame 

A harmed person before you, just wishes to be seen for that which they are 
The potential, the past, the possibilities, the depths 
Do not disregard, or place a being into your neat self-injury box 
The multitude of beauty they carry, from their outer scars to their very soul 
Give them a chance to be; open your heart and mind to the whole.