In the Light
As I stand, exposed and vulnerable, blood running down from the knees, ocean banding the skin in dark muck, and feet thick with barnacles, calloused and cut from years in the water. Once whole, now giving way, every wound borne openly, neither disguised nor lessening presence. Against the calm, silvery space, less broken than redeemed, already standing in heaven. Scars read not as failure but as signs of grace, quiet proof that even the broken can belong in the light.