The weeping wounds and jagged scars astound me.
Life hurts so much more than we admit.
Does healing exist?
Not with advice nor ideology nor judgment and repentance -
those things act at best as band-aids
and at worst as instruments of torture probing deeper into the open wounds.
But maybe, just maybe...
with space to breathe
and a witness.
Hands to unwrap the bloody bandages used for triage.
Eyes to unflinchingly assess and accept the damage.
Ears to hear the guttural groans that have no words.
And heart and soul to pour divine grace over the wounds.
Maybe these things work better than anesthetic and stitching twine.
Washing the wounds with tears, maybe the healing begins
and the old scars soften
and hearts can find their song.