As I gaze in the mirror,
the stretch marks and scars
of my life before me,
a silent presentation
of my love and work remains.
How will I look when I am perfected?
When I rise that morning,
will I look down, panic stricken,
and wonder: How will my love know me?
I was never this way when we were together,
even young.
Will I search for the marks of my children
on smooth and unmarked skin?
Will the scars I grew so much to heal
be regretted, if only a moment?
I earned them:
blood, sweat, tears.
Or will my perfected heart
see this same old body
with perfect eyes and real respect
for my hard-won stretch marks and scars.
I only know one perfect man
and well, he kept his scars:
a representation of his love,
the achievement of perfection.
This piece was published in 2013 as part of the 2nd Annual Mormon Lit Blitz by the Mormon Lit Lab. Sign up for our newsletter for future updates.
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