Born tiny but came tough.

White blonde. Green eyes. Under Mercury.

Born into deep love. Enough to keep me safe? Nobody knew.

That dark morning when paralysis came. Then months in helpless isolation.

Only to fall. The pavement won. Muscles failed to protect. A broken skeleton.

I came tough. Rose up. But was knocked down again.

Saws, knives… cutting into bone and flesh.

Shoulder bolt. Only to bend when met with a wall.

Again deep bone cutting. Another bolt. A scalpel slip.

Pathways of feeling and blood severed. Spilling everywhere.

But I came tough. Big, deep, wide painful scars encircles shoulder and slices across my chest.

Forever a reminder; I came tough. I can carry that cast.

I can carry pounds of plaster, though it leaves a dent in my hip and covers just one breast.

I played hard. I was not crippled or disabled Mom and Dad said.

I danced, played music, wrote stories, played sports. Kissed boys.

I fell but got up again, bleeding. Scars on my knees to prove it. I came tough.

I’ll leave here tough.