Shakily, my clothed canvas became bare,
My skin raw with the weight of foreign eyes,
Defining scars I bore in agony
Ugliness etched in fleshy curves and lines.
He saw Me.
The real Me.
Not the fragments I feared,
Not the broken edges I hid,
And his gaze made space for Me
To be unguarded,
To breathe in the in-between.
He saw Me.
The whole Me.
Not the cracks I trace in mirrors,
Not the engravings made statuesque upon Me,
And his soft words laid down a bed
Of soft feathery growth
As my lines were cut deeper with new meaning.
A trembling bridge —
from fear to trust,
from exposure to acceptance,
from Me alone
to Me with you.
And in that suspended heartbeat,
I was neither afraid nor entirely free —
Lingering on the threshold
Where something new transcends.
UF PRISM 