Stretch Marks- A Poem

It’s strange to think that you began your journey as a collection of cells split between two.

Before that you may have been an idea, a dream which was prayed for;

or perhaps you were an unexpected miracle, but a miracle all the same.

Whether planned or not, your selection of cells were joined in a union:




Into a rare natural puzzle which created you.

And from inside the safe space your mother housed you in,

you continued to grow like a seedling sprouting vigorously.

Until you outgrew your mother’s nest.

And it was time to fly free.


From outside your cocoon

your growing intensified.

Outstretched fingers grew and reached to the sky.

Arms doubled in size; legs kicked and wiggled;

And before your parents knew it,

your age had doubled,


Your outline softened

as your body reached the full potential it strived for.

Full growth.


Upon the surface of your skin lines are scattered,

in white and red and purple.

Like flicks of paint on a blank canvas.

Some travelling in groups,

others isolated,

scattered more densely over your inner thighs and stomach.

And you hate them.


But yet,

the reason these artistic brushstrokes exist

is beautiful,


As when your body grew and expanded,

your skin had to stretch over it.

Covering each muscle and nerve ending,

to protect them from the outside.

And these lines are proof of your growth,

a reminder of the amazing creation you are.

Because once you were merely a collection of cells split between two,

And now you are fully formed.


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