As I Stand
As I stand, shingles stripped, wood exposed, barnacles clinging to legs, and a set of eyes tattooed on the flesh like a reminder of history. Once whole, now in transition, every mark carried openly, neither hidden nor diminishing presence. Against the calm, silvery space, less wounded than enduring, already standing in heaven. Marks read not as flaws but as signs of survival, quiet proof that even the scarred and broken can belong in the light.