Scars Of Life Poem by Mohammad Yousef

In the tender cradle of childhood,
where laughter dances on the breeze,
the first scars are etched,
not of sorrow but of innocence,
of scraped knees and whispers of dreams,
elementary days, where crayons bleed,
on paper and hearts,
the colors of a world yet unscarred.

Preparatory years—
a bridge to the unknown,
lessons learned in classrooms,
where curiosity ignites the flame,
and friendships are woven,
in the fabric of shared secrets,
pencil fights, and fleeting glances,
the first love, soft and fluttering,
like the wings of a butterfly,
a tender whisper beneath the stars.

Then comes the second love,
as bright, yet tinged with the blush of youth,
the thrill of stolen kisses,
and the ache of goodbyes.
Secondary education,
a labyrinth of thoughts and choices,
where ambition is born,
fueled by dreams and heartache,
the bittersweet taste of longing.

University beckons,
a cacophony of ideas and voices,
where the third love blooms—
a fierce passion,
a rendezvous beneath the moonlight,
but love is fickle,
and failure finds its way,
through the cracks of a fragile heart,
an education in more than books,
the lessons of loss and resilience.

Friendship, the anchor in life's storm,
a friend in need is a friend indeed,
the laughter shared, the tears spilled,
the bonds forged in the fires of experience,
military service calls,
to the infantry school in Aleppo,
where discipline is clad in courage,
the Republic Guardian in Damascus,
where duty becomes a second skin.

Returning to civil life,
the weight of memories heavy,
yet life flows onward,
teaching at Al Mamoun and Tishreen,
where wisdom spills from lips,
and students search for their own scars,
joining the petroleum industry,
among the pipeline rats,
a new life, gritty and raw,
marriage blooms,
two hearts entwined,
with twins—a boy and a girl,
the laughter of new beginnings.

In the corporate maze,
head of foreign purchasing,
translation, procurement,
assessor manager of commercial dreams,
the administrative realm,
training the next generation,
yet navigating the labyrinth,
of difficult souls,
and the resignation,
a quiet farewell to the Syrian Company,
the scars of toil etched deep.

Back to normal life,
where the simple moments shine,
the echoes of laughter,
the warmth of a shared meal,
the beauty in the scars,
the stories they tell,
of a journey rich and complex,
a tapestry woven with love and loss,
a life lived, in the scars of time.