She quivered as she spoke,
"This scar has a wound;
it was on a day where
I crowned it with a knife,
hoping it will end my life.
It did no good, only healed
into a monster with the
shape of a line, sealed
inside my valley of white.
I regret it, I regret it, I regret it."
After teaching her how to sign
once we started dating, I was finally
able to sign: Tell me a story.
"Once upon a time,
a fool who wanted out of
a world with prison bars.
She climbed onto the fence,
was about to jump when a man
with common sense came by;
he pulled her down from the sky.
she asked him why?—
He answered with a smile, said
she was worthwhile.
Confused and bruised, she
had no clue what to do; the
man told her do not cry nor
think if she wanted to die.
He held her hand and said,
"Darling, you're beautiful,
think with your head. Remember,
you are not dead. Know you're a hero."
The girl laughed with ease.
"A hero? Is that a joke?
You must be kidding; I'm
only broke," she spoke.
The man brought her face
to his, and spoke at a gentle
pace with ease. "Every scar
has a wound, that will be
crowned by a knife or blade
to end a precious life.
Every wound has a story, filled
with gory. Behind each story,
you will find strength. Look
deeper, and harder, and you find—"
The girl whispered, "a hero."
See Charlie, this story
comes to me. But I am
no hero, I am only weak.
I can't fight for this baby.
our baby, Charlie."
And the world stopped,
the lights went down,
and I finally realized that
there was a little piece of
me waiting to open it's eyes.
I'm a father.
Is it possible that in one day—
when thousands of people
take away years from their
lives trying to conceive
just one little child—I could
be a father?
