"Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh"

Children are quick to display their hurts, turning injuries into badges of experience or pride. A scraped knee or a healing cut becomes a story to tell, a physical testament to survival, adventure, or daring. In their innocence, scars are a form of currency, offering entry into the shared narrative of growing up. They do not hide their wounds; rather, they reveal them eagerly, as if to say, "I have lived". Their openness contrasts sharply with the secretive way adults often treat their scars.

Meanwhile, lovers handle scars as cherished mysteries. Scars become confessions, intimacies exchanged in the quiet corners of affection. Revealing a scar to a lover is choosing vulnerability, the physical mark is evidence of lived experience, pain, sometimes trauma, but also of healing. In romantic vulnerability, scars transform from signs of damage into tokens of trust. Two people move closer through sharing what is hidden from the wider world. In this way, scars are transformed from sources of shame into symbols of connection and understanding.

The closing thought speaks to the deeper poetic idea of scars as the embodiment of experience, "when the word is made flesh". Words and stories are made substantial, visible, and lasting through physical marks on the body. A scar is no longer just a wound; it is history itself, inscribed upon the skin. It is the proof that something significant happened, evidence that emotional or physical pain passed through the world and left a mark. The abstract is made concrete, intertwining memory and the body in a tangible way. Scars become the physical record of life's trials and lessons, transforming vulnerability and suffering into something that can be seen, touched, shared, and even valued. Each scar is a poem, a memory, a story made real.