Exposed

I have them under cover,

hidden beneath my mask

so no one will notice, no one

will be aware of my blunders.

Yet upon closer inspection

my mistakes become more evident

unravelling the edges, sticking out

for all to see, hard to ignore.

Why do I think I have to hide, or exclude

these scars of my humanity? Do I want

to be like stone, hard and solid?

Or malleable and stretchable, ready

for reshaping and repairing,

each day starting over again to be

more flexible, more permeable?

Yes, Lord, remold my clay again,

make me into a new creation

able to use my wounds, my errors,

to console, to nourish, to serve

those who are struggling too.