Introductions- Christine Ray

I am survival
etched on my skin
in black ink
pierced through my cartilage
and lobes with silver rings and studs
I am survival
knit into my scalp
under salt and pepper hair
cropped close
when I decided I was more
than long curly locks
no one’s eye candy
I am survival
visible in the faint half-moon
scar that circles my throat
and the other that
plays connect-the-dot
between my pelvic bones
because square pegs
do not always come out
of round holes
and motherhood is not
for the faint of heart
I am survival
see the fine lines that
starburst from the corners
of my eyes
drawn by laughter
and steely determination
declaring that I am no longer
a mere girl
but a woman grown
and I have lived
I am survival
when I clutch my pen
in aching hands
ignoring the pain in each knuckle
and cut the…