I see a scarred body but nevertheless a beautiful body. In fact, the body is more beautiful and captivating because of the scars. It reminded me of the poem For What Binds Us by Jane Hershfield. and that's where the name of the painting, Proud Flesh, came from;
" And see how the flesh grows back
across a wound, with a great vehemence,
more strong
than the simple, untested surface before.
There's a name for it on horses,
when it comes back darker and raised: proud flesh,
as all flesh,
is proud of its wounds, wears them
as honors given out after battle,
small triumphs pinned to the chest"
I am grateful for my scars, as it means many of the wounds have healed.
I am grateful to have proud flesh.
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