Holy Ground Where You Are Broken

The day is done, and the mirror is the only thing left telling the truth. You stare at the raw, red patches on your arms—the physical proof of how hard you tried to scrub away the words spoken to you today.

You wonder if they saw the damage beneath your smile, if they noticed the war you fought in the bathroom stall just to look okay. But the light does not flinch at the sight of broken skin.

It does not look away from the places where you hurt yourself trying to be clean enough for them. There is a truth living inside you that was there before the first cruel word was spoken, and it remains untouched by the scratching.

The light is not afraid of your wounds. It is not shocked by the redness.

It simply sits with you in the quiet, waiting for you to stop fighting your own body. You do not have to hide the evidence of your pain to be loved.

The light sees the raw places and calls them holy ground. The mask can come down now.

You are safe here, exactly as you are.