Scars! I cried.

Holes and Marks.

Wounds of shame,

Mar this tiny heart.

Daddy, I stretched my arms

Above my head, above my heart

and mind.

Pick me up, take me away.

I’m no good anymore.

Cocktail of fear, shame and pride

Sloshes willfully in my chest.

Overflows in tears.

Frustration paints my cheeks.

Daddy stepped close,

Stern love in His eyes.

He held out a robe.

Over my pleading arms it slipped,

Soft as silk against shame-flamed skin.

Every bruise soothed by its whisper-smooth trace.

He met my eyes, held my hands.

I see no scars.

No marks or holes.

I see beauty, perfection, exquisite, effective holiness.

No one will ever recognize you now.

You look just like Jesus,

Dressed in His raiment.

Walk your streets.

His cloak will heal you, keep you.

His righteousness will dress you.

Disguised, go out.

In our image, I created you.

For now,

For this.

I love you, you’re beautiful.