To heal and scar this way is burdensome too far
to bear alone in peace – narrow blades of fortune
don’t condone mistakes or random chance of fate
as fair or foul, or foiled in avid cut and thrust of
bare but venomous miscegeny; matched finesse
of strength’s vitality compares as fearless dash
or wears a penchant’s frown, whereas duplicity
equates au pair with rampant perfidy

So scars are worn a rhapsody – and fate a score
of music writ with liberal flair for air or string;
voices sing with equal verve in praise of fantasy,
twinge a nerve, raise a brow, there’s ample space
for sure again within, places yet to be amazed –
you can abjure your penance and be free

Margaret Alice Second

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cicatrise/