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Memorial Tattoo

Memorial Tattoo

When I got my first tattoo, I remember being afraid of what the people in my life would think.

After all, one of the earliest things I was ever taught was that your body was a temple and you honor it by what you put in it and what you display upon it.

I thought my grandparents would be disgusted.

I thought my parents would disown me.

After all, needles weren’t meant to separate or change us, they were meant to bring us together.

I was so afraid of their reaction that I didn’t step into a tattoo parlor until that fateful day mom and pop passed away.

When I stepped in, I was still nervous but a sign on the wall helped calm my nerves.

“Don’t worry what the world will think, the one perfect man on earth was pierced five times and used the scars to show who he was.”

It felt like more than just a sign on the wall, it felt like a sign from above.

I couldn’t make a quilt to save my life so this felt like their nod of approval to use a needle in a different way to make a memorial.

I talked to my artist about what I wanted to do and what it meant to me.

He loved the idea and went right at it.

The moment the needle hit my skin, that warm sting made me cry, not from pain but from relief.

It felt like a warm hug, the kind you rushed to when you got home from school and the kind you regretted not giving more in your angst-filled youth.

He stopped for a second out of concern and I said please keep going, this is the closest I’ve felt to them since they passed.

For the next six hours, every piercing reinforced a link I was so afraid of breaking by that very action.

Once the countless small impalements had finished, my skin had transmogrified into a piece of art.

I couldn’t make a memorial quilt but he could, mom and dad’s attire went where they were supposed to, next to each other as almost a twin of my grandparents.

I’ll tell you Impaler what I told to a man of faith years ago, I’m not afraid of a needle or any sort of impaling.

I welcome it, after all the lord I worship got impaled five times on the day he passed.

It didn’t end the world, it saved it.

His blood cleansed the world like mine cleansed my pain.

Some people are so afraid of death that you use their fear as a fast pass to their defeat.

I’ve already experienced death, I’ve experienced plenty of sharp piercings, and I’ve endured mind games and fear from men much worse than you.

If you’re actually willing to put actions behind your name, impale me with full force because if you don’t, you’ll see why even though I’m like Jesus, I’m not him.

it won’t take me three days to overcome your actions.

It will take three seconds.