Beautifully Broken

I am beautifully broken. Don't get me wrong. I don't think I'm beautiful. But I do think I'm beautifully broken. Before Fet, I hated being called broken. It was an insult. It meant I needed "fixing". Or worse, I was beyond fixing.. and insisted I wasnt. Granted, I loved the brokenness in other people. The flaws. The wounds. The scars. The jagged edges. The missing pieces. The fractures. Each of these giving their inner light places to shine out of, to reflect and refract, to diffuse and sparkle, to illuminate so beautifully. But I never really thought about it that way. It was just how I am. I am drawn to the walking wounded. The ones who are bleeding, gasping, hurting, crying. The ones who are healing, scarred, cracked, pitted. The ones who are lost, feel alone, are hiding, are afraid. I am drawn to the ones like me. The beautifully broken. I never saw myself as that. Couldn't apply the word beautiful to myself whatsoever. But now I know. I am broken and beautifully so. As are so many others. Emotionally, physically, mentally we've gone through Hell. We have the wounds and scars to show for it. But we survive. We go on. We shine our lights through all our brokenness. Trying to help others see the way. Trying to ease pain and fear. Trying to let others know they are not alone. That they are beautifully broken too. Broken is no longer an insult. It is a compliment of the highest order. Without my breaks, my light would be useless. It would be self-contained and would do no good in this world. Because of my breaks, I am a lantern. My light shines through and I have purpose. I am...beautifully broken. And proud to be