The Healing Map
A poem
In the quiet night
I trace the scars you left,
not as wounds
but as a map
to my healing.
In the stillness,
I run my fingers over
the jagged terrain of my past,
not with anguish, not with pain,
but with a reverence for the journey.
These scars, they are not burdens to bear,
but guideposts along the path to wholeness.
Each ridge, each valley, a lesson learned,
a strength forged through adversity’s fire.
No longer do I see them as gashes, as hurts
that mar the surface of my being.
Instead, I behold a cartography of resilience,
a blueprint for the healing yet to come.
For in tracing these marks, these permanent reminders,
I map out the terrain of my own restoration.
The pain that carved these lines also rendered me
stronger, wiser, more attuned to my inner light.
So in the hush of night, I tenderly caress
these battle scars, these testaments to my survival.
They are not sins to be hidden, but badges of honour,
for they have led me home, to the wholeness within.
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