My sons and grandparents. One of my five tattoos so far.

The Marked

It’s sort of like an empty page,
A thing that calls from far away –
A vision of a piece of you,
A thought you have to say.
It grows into a yearning urge,
One that tingles, one that burns,
And whispers through to all you be
“You’re incomplete without me.”
A part of you, a shred of soul,
That’s pushing toward your surface.
A thing your heart just has to say
With volume and with purpose.
It creeps out through your very pores
‘Til you begin to see
Just how and where it needs to go,
Just how it’s supposed to be.
Before not long, you see it there
Invisible but clear –
The missing piece
Of you
Your soul,
Your heart
You have to wear
Upon your sleeve
Quite lit’rally –
No matter what the cost
Because this piece is breaking through
And without, you feel a loss.
So you go and collaborate
With another soul divine,
An artist who can replicate
The piece of heart, a sign
That spells out what you need it to,
To speak the words inside –
A language that is lost on most
You can no longer hide.
Forgive what judgment,
Forget the pain,
For nothing matters more
Than bringing out this piece of soul
Bursting from your core.
And when the buzzing ends,
And when the work is done,
You walk away with soulful peace
So grateful for the gun –
It gives to us
A way to tell
The things that lie within
That shape our minds,
That mend our lives,
That tell of who we’ve been.
And how it looks to others
Means nothing to The Marked
Because we know that what we’ve done
Is show a bit of heart.
If they should hate
Or cry
Or judge,
It is not ours to parry –
For we’re not meant to live beneath
The ceilings others carry.
The stars are ours.
The moons are, too.
The flowers and bones alike.
‘Cause when we look into the mirror
It’s what we see we like.
A part of us,
A piece of soul
That lies upon the skin
And speaks to us
And all around
Of who we are within.
When we behold and see it there
We feel a bit as though
We can’t imagine how we were
Before it came to show.
They say with age
You come to change
And turn on things you’ve placed
Upon your flesh –
They say “regret”
But I say that is based
On those who chose
A standard pose,
A picture piece, not of soul
That came to them
From their within,
And so it has grown old.
When you do this properly –
These marks, they are a part
Of all you are eternally
To death and from the start.
So when my ink is faded
And when my skin grows loose,
I’ll look upon my body
And know this profound truth:
That I lived upon this earth
In this here sack of skin
And never let society
Keep my soul within.
Some things were meant for hiding,
Some things were meant to speak,
And still others meant for sharing, for releasing
So they leak
Out of my mind
Out of my soul
And spill upon my flesh
That’s proud to show
My spirit’s glow
Until it’s laid to rest.
So fear not, hate not, wish not,
Cry not a single tear
For this to me is beauty,
And truth, and love adhered.