In shadows cast by wounds we bear,
A journey through the depths of despair,
Yet softly sung by the hands of time,
Hope whispers, wounds heal, a truth sublime.
With tender care, the soul’s mending starts,
Like threads woven from broken hearts,
Embracing scars that tell tales of strife,
Each mark a testament to inner life.
When pain cascades like a river’s tide,
And sorrow’s touch leaves scars deep inside,
Remember, wounds heal at their own pace,
A testament of strength in life’s embrace.
For as the sun paints the sky with grace,
It stitches wounds with warmth and embrace,
In every sunrise, a promise unfolds,
That healing’s path, a story yet untold.
It’s in the quiet whisper of the breeze,
Where newfound strength fills the heart with ease,
Where patience blooms and compassion’s found,
A gentle balm that tends to every wound.
For time may test us, leaving us shaken,
But resilience awakens, unshaken,
And as we rise from darkness to light,
Each wound transformed into wisdom’s sight.
So, let us honor the scars we bear,
For they are badges of the strength we share,
And know, dear friend, in truth we reveal,
That with time and love, wounds do heal.
MARYANN BOSAH 