Work Text:
There’s something I need to tell you,
Something about my skin.
It’s Marked, people say, and it’s true,
But I show it, for it reminds me of
My faults in the past,
Mistakes I’m unmaking in the present.
It’s a battle scar
For a soldier like me.
There’s something I need to tell you,
Something about my eyes.
They’re cold, people say, and it’s true,
But I use them, for they reveal who
My true friends are, and who
Trample on my name like dirt under their feet.
They’re Foe-glasses
For an outcast like me.
There’s something I need to tell you,
Something about my tongue.
It’s sharp, people say, and it’s true,
But I wield it, for it speaks of the
Hate men are capable of,
Injustices they turn a blind eye to.
It’s a confession
For a sinner like me.
There’s something I need to tell you,
Something about my soul.
It’s blemished, people say, and it’s true,
But I safeguard it, for it’ll mend, I’ve heard that much,
Once repentance is complete, and
Love imbues it like a balm.
It’s a patient
For a Healer like me.
There’s something I need to tell you,
Something about my heart.
It’s shriveled, people say, and it’s true,
But I care for it, for it’ll grow, I have faith that it will,
Once it breaks free from its Darkness, and
Light soothes and leavens its furrows one by one.
It’s a seedling
For a cultivator like me.
There’s something I need to tell you,
Something about my hand.
It’s … well,
People have said nothing about it yet,
But they will, tomorrow,
When it takes yours down the aisle,
As it raises yours for a kiss.
I’ll say this:
It may be rough from fighting,
From crawling back from the mud.
It may be tired from telling cautionary tales,
Calloused, perhaps, from mending and making things grow.
But it’s mine, Harry, and
It’ll be yours to keep.
And this is something I need to tell you,
Something I need to tell you now.