The Stain

My hand reaches for the dimmer;

the room brightens, shadows dancing.

My eyes are drawn to a single spot,

squinting to decipher its shape.

The stain is revealed:

dark, strong, and at first, repugnant.

The stain

Lowering my gaze, I wonder: which child did this?

Emotions simmer to a boil—disgust, hurt, betrayal.

A scar left by indifference and neglect.

What now? I let the anger grow.

But then, swirling thoughts deliver a new emotion.

Calmness resonates.

I think there is more here to uncover.

I close my eyes and consider this:

turning the page, I see the blemish differently.

A reminder of family, a sign that I belong.

The stain,

a simple accident - oops - it is fine.

A home that remains undisturbed is a house - not a home; it sits pristine, yes, but sadly alone.

The mark is evidence of life.

Will it be permanent?

Perhaps 

It is the signature of human existence.

And so begins the transformation - my transformation.

The stain is no longer an offense,

for now I see it for what it truly is:

the beauty of the stain.