These Scars Are Maps

("These Scars Are Maps" is a sentence I found graffitied on the side of a wall in Tel Aviv)

You say these scars are maps and you wear them with pride. You flaunt them for the world to recognize and revel in your history. These scars are maps, but where is the legend? They lead me astray in a maze that I am too free to follow but too scared to destroy. These scars are maps that plot familiar points in uncharted waters. Stuck without a compass, I read your map. This territory is sorrowful and proud, oozing emotional energy stored for thousands of years and released in the form of Israeli smiles and French bullets 60 years ago this season. These scars are maps that pull at my heart and fuel my desire to make it all better. These scars are maps that lead me in ugly and distorted circles, refusing to release me into the impossibility of using another compass. You flaunt your map, hoping but knowing I will try to read it. But if you gotta flaunt it... suddenly you become an insecure male, hyper-masculine in an attempt to mask your dehumanization. Peer pressure's a bitch and this is not what he truly wants. These scars have become maps to a pain that is swallowed by the guise of humanity. A globalization of sensitivity has birthed a military culture and a steel-backed people. Cold because protecting happiness comes with a price. These scars are maps that point to the sacrificed tolerance, given up with tears in the name of future smiles. These scars are maps to the past that cultivated this complicated pride and unspoken genocide. Thank God "Never Again" is true for the Jews. But these scars are maps to the present Again. You say these scars are maps and you wear them with pride. Would your head still be high if you realized these scars are really maps to who you used to be inside?