I wager there be no more or less of him
Than what be captured on a roll of film.
Is not the body just an object under loan?
For when you pass beyond the hidden veil
Another will be chosen to address the stage.
All have their role to play within the gravity of nights.
Your body now a tapestry, forever to be read
on which an illustrator etched a suite of graphic signs.
Each image cauterized with metallic inks
that cannot be so easily erased or over-scribed
by a simple change of mind,
a reminder of sobriety surrendered to a whim,
and then a strange compulsion.
How did you wish the message be received?
Beyond the scent of searing flesh,
A painful pledge entrusted to your heated blood,
Such markings once can make a person notable,
If not discreetly hidden under camouflage.
More than a brand, you could become a specimen,
Never to be mistaken for another.
Where imitation fails as the highest form of flattery.
Here I see a serpent sliding up your arm?
A rose upon your calf,
the stillness of a dragonfly upon your neck,
A tiger tooth growling on your thigh,
And here a fainting signature?
Your body now a canvas in need of a good story.
Beyond a moment’s vanity,
the rite of boys and girls has drawn you here
to tempt the surge of pride.
Despite the waves of pain along your patient frame
that will reflect your purpose back before the glass,
a christening of sorts not easily dissolved.
The sign of some enriched identity,
You bet on your belief that self might be remade.
How to explain those digits on your wrist?
The arithmetic storied days are blessed now,
How meaning can be captured in a simple truth,
honouring the heroism of your son
wrestling whispers, those of demons long endured,
before the passing of his uncertain stay.
A state not fully fathomed by a mother’s love alone,
But a testament to a long battle with brut addiction,
Where now you wear his daily abstinence,
a badge that celebrates the colours of his hope,
a journey told in sweat and tears,
a life more precious …
than the disappearance of a race with time.