Abuse ties the victim in knots.
Even when the abuse is over
And the victim turns survivor,
As one knot is undone,
Another bubbles up to take its place.
The stains on a victim’s heart
Never quite wash out.
Even when the vanquished becomes the victor
Through baptism in His crimson tide,
The scarlet stained prism still remains.
In weakness there is strength.
Not the powerlessness of being under a control freak’s thumb,
But the choice of humility
And the admission that God is God
Strengthen the weakest faint heart.
My heart cries out to the One who won’t break the bruised:
Bless me! Increase my strength, courage, wisdom, and trust.
Give me help and others to help.
Hide me in the hollow of Your Nail-Scarred Hand.
Keep me from inflicting my pain on others.