Wounds, We Need to Talk

Wounds—
I won’t hide you anymore.
I won’t cover you with forced smiles
or bury you under hurried prayers.
You exist.
You ache.
You bleed.
And today… I see you.

You thought you’d silence me.
You thought you’d shame me.
But you are not my weakness,
you are my witness.

You tell the story of battles survived,
of nights darker than hope,
of mornings I never thought I’d see.
You carry tears that baptized me into strength.

Yes, you are ugly at first glance—
but you are sacred at second look.
Because in every cut,
God’s hand is waiting to trace mercy.

So, wounds, I won’t curse you.
I won’t hide you.
I won’t let you ache in shadows.
I will name you.
I will claim you.
I will lift you up as altars—
because healing starts where honesty begins.

Stay if you must.
Turn into scars if you will.
But even scars preach:
I hurt. I healed. I rose.

Wounds, hear me clearly:
You are not my grave.
You are my garden.
And one day, from this soil of pain,
new life will bloom.

Because Christ walks in wounds.
And where He walks,
resurrection always follows.


My wounds are not proof I’m broken. They’re proof that God isn’t finished.