9:38 PM

i open my hands. 
gently, i trace the lines that have sunk into my fragile skin. 
they're worn out. tired. heavily used. 
it's like every unique pattern of my fingerprint tells a different story. 
i feel the coarse edges of my broken flesh cry. 
they want to be noticed. 
they demand their legends be heard. 


my scars stay silent. 
they need not call attention to themselves. 
the piercing eyes of their mockers already haunt the fading beauty of my worn out hands. 

r e g r e t 

it's as if we've been taught. 
that the more we loath our failures, the more virtuous we become. 
it's as if the fine discipline of self-hatred has become the substitute of love. 
maybe if we spend our whole lives chasing this false humility, our deepest secrets will be overlooked. 

let it sink in. 
no use hiding. there's nowhere to go. 
until you've learned to accept the face in the mirror that glares back at all your brokenness, you will never know what it truly means to love. 

we've become so used to trying to mend our imperfections, and run from our emptiness, and hide all our not-enoughness. 
it's not about screaming your testimony from the mountain tops.
it's become the hiding of the messiness of your legacy so maybe. just maybe. all of earth will never know. 
maybe. just maybe. 
no one will know. 
that you are one broken heart. 

what's the use. 
if all of heaven. 
already knows. 
that no matter how hard you try to hold the pieces together. 
you're still a blessed wreck. 
and no matter how hard you try to paint your hurting with a forged smile. 
you're still collapsing. 

regret is the curse of an enemy who will spend his last breath trying to convince you that you are not good enough. 
regret is the bitter taste that lingers in your soul when you refuse to receive joy. 
regret is the resentment that boils in your blood.
maybe forgiving yourself is the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. 
but if you never learn to surrender to the gift of mercy, you'll never be given the grace to be the giver of such love. 

life is about giving. 
and pouring. 
and serving. 
and sacrificing the deepest parts of our existence. 

but receiving is a different kind of giving.
surrendering to the tender love of another is a different kind of humility. 
learning to rejoice in your sacred chaos is a different kind of strength. 

we are not made for perfection. 
our brokenness is the most beautiful things about us. 
it's our existence. 
it's our humanity. 
it's our gift. 

because in this life we were promised pain. 
and in the pain we were promised healing. 
and my Father said that there's no love without the pain. 

so, Child. 
maybe it's time you lift your head up. 
maybe it's time you let the tears burn and the wounds sting. 
it's time you surrender to the healing. 

and if you never have the courage to face your deepest fear
you will never be given the authority to defeat it. 

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  1. i believe that this excellent piece of poetry is ONE OF THE BEST I HAVE EVER READ!!!

    each word is treasure and thank you so much for blessing me with your treasure
    you are blessing to life
    to earth and hopefully to yourself!

  2. Lovely words and writing ! Happy Friday, enjoy your day and weekend!

  3. This is so beautiful, great job. <3

  4. those lines on your hands are marks of a life well lived, one that is not yet finished. beautiful writings!!

  5. Wow that is very powerful, it is very easy to get caught up in how not perfect we feel we are, putting so much pressure on ourselves to be perfect to everyone and we don't focus on ourselves, I do believe we can't live in the past and keep regretting things we have done but move forward and except the love God has for us, and forgive ourselves as he has forgiven us.


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