Scars Heal

• Tselatea Menberu, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2017

I cautiously grace my fingertips over your scars.
Tracing the abstract lines that cover your skin.
A ferocious artist you were, knives pressed helplessly Against your wrist. Your hands were soaked in agony, you vowed never to see red again.
Burned all your dangerous paint brush and asked me to find you a nicer brush that contained all about one colour of the rainbow...red.