—The Privilege of Ruin—
My friend, write not of grief because thy pen
Can counterfeit the thunder of the slain;
Nor gild thy page with borrowed wounds, when
Thou hast not heard thy triumph fracture pain.
What knowest thou of winter, if thy hearth
Has never failed at midnight?—of the door
That shuts upon the hand that gave it worth,
The coinless dawn, the name that is no more?
Thy loves have passed like comets through thy bed,
Thy laurels climb where lesser spirits bow;
Yet there are alphabets the crowned have read
Only as maps of countries unknown now.
For verse begins where fortune loses claim:
The wound looks up—and learns thy tongue by name.
They tore the plaster off but the wound was still real.
Infected by this earth of man and with no deal.
They didn’t see the wound grow, cut itself down and so deep.
The change happened so, so slow until the wound found its own feel.
The mind connected through, tried to fight the cruel wound. A barrier built deep inside, sometimes it wore down to unleash the cruel fool.
They tore the plaster off but the wound is still real.
You abandoned me in my most needy days:
the way in summer, people curse the sun's rays.
The way people forget an umbrella after the rains.
The way people throw the band-aid after healing from the pains.
Tell me which hurt more, rejecting at first,
or after winning the trust
stabbing on the back
such a way that you can never trust the word 'trust' again?
Tell me if not love, then what causes such pain?
Words wound, they hit you like a brick, and can make you sick.
Words wound, they have power, they can lift and can lower you to hell.
Words are a way to communicate your feelings, they can linger in your heart and mind forever.
Words have meaning, they can grow, like a seed they can get big and grow and grow.
Words from God, tell us how much he loves us, and how he will punish us if we are not part of his words.
Words are like swords, they injure, they cure, they lift, they last forever and can linger in our minds forever.
Words are powerful, so use them with care, release them, and let them go into the air, let them cure and calm, let us all pray for the best of times.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Flowers could fall but the fragrance will linger
~Shao Ye, 860
Flower blossoms wilt then die,
your fragrance remains a shy
reminder of summer bliss
and that first soft breathless kiss.
Summer passes into fall,
still your scent upon this shawl
lingers into cold winter ~
my heart a wounded splinter.
An open wound
Fingers digging into the sides of my seat
Stomach lurching forward
Poked and prodded, how did you become such a miserable thing so young?
There's a price that must be paid.
Cover my eyes.
Reach deep into my frame.
Tell me when it’s over.
It had to be a cross
With arms stretched out
The space of heart
Where fear and doubt
...claimed truth
It had to be a spear
That pierced HIS side
Where blood and water flowed
Out the lies
...that claimed truth
It had to be rape
That claimed the womb
The space of life
Where vision grew
...proclaimed truth
It had to be a rod
The pierced Her sacred space
Where blood and water clogged
And no growth could ever take place
...that proclaimed truth
Until TRUTH remembered
I am loved in every way
In the fullness of His glory
The fruit of our labor
Is proclaimed in every story
He held WORD
Spoken and Written
She held TRUTH
Seen and Hidden
The place of the wound
Where questions arose
Grace, threaded TRUTH
To reveal what LOVE knows
....life is held....breath is granted...we belong
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-09-2026
Seasons changed,
Tears, they rained.
Hibernation to flourishing, it's time.
Inevitable light,
Tunnel finishes, again.
Clearing on the other side.
Ending felt like never,
Confused to comprehend,
Blessings here and unexpected.
Home inside,
Location range wide,
Travelling and reflecting.
Structure breaking,
Routines shaking,
Evolution at its best.
Changes confronting,
Spirit is lusting,
To heal this wound in my chest.
7:58pm 19/1/26
We come seeking the sunlight that seeps within our skin.
We come time and time again, picking the wound, slow to bleed.
We come with nothing feeling real past the point of infection
We come open, gaping,
waiting to scar
First we bruise
to see the proof of our love in intricate colors
A way to feel
Some wounds need open air
to heal
Did you hear it? In the separation of my spirit
A bellowing from within
All my demons shake and quiver
And you befriended them
Their velvet gaze whispers
sweetly deception
Did you feel it?
The taking of my life
Kissed my wound and said you loved it
before you turned the knife
Did they trick you too?
Or was it always in you
To know just where to put it
In the Quiet of the Fold
I have knelt where the weary come,
and heard the hush beneath their grief.
No cry of self, no bitter lament—
Only hands reaching for a steady hand.
I have carried the small wounds of the world,
the secret sighs that tremble in the dark,
and offered nothing but presence,
and the quiet, patient light of God.
There is no room for pity here.
only love that listens,
and a heart that bends
without breaking.
O gentle Lord, let me be
a shelter for the lost,
a cup for the thirsty,
a soft voice for the forgotten.
And when the day falls silent,
I shall not measure my own burden;
I shall only know
that every step I have walked
has been beside your children.
She traces the scar beneath her skin,
Fingertips gentle, learning where pain has been.
Each ache a story etched in silent lines,
Each bruise a memory the heart still finds.
The wound-her secret lantern in the night,
Split open, raw, but glowing with new light.
She gathers the shards and lets herself feel,
Trusting the crack will teach her how to heal.
She does not turn away from sorrow's flame,
Nor hide the tears that shape her sacred name.
Through brokenness, her spirit learns to sing,
And in her weeping, gardens start to spring.
The darkness she carries is also grace,
Illuminated softly by what she faces.
Her wounds become windows to the sky-
Through every fissure, hope dares to fly.
So she stands in the dawn with trembling hands,
Knowing the light enters where she cannot stand.
She rises-brave, imperfect, and true,
For every hurt is where the light breaks through.
Only
Love Can
Magically Heal
The Responsibility
To Challenge The
***
Darkness.
-Gray Squirrel
10-13-2025
Rumi Quotes
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
Contest Judged: 10/29/2025 1:40:00 PM
( 3rd Place )
Written: October 1, 2025
Rumi's Quote Inspired:
--"the wound is the place where the light enters you"--
I lugged silence like a stone
tucked away from all sight.
Pain etched itself into my days
and left footprints...
I could no longer claim.
Then a sliver of morning
crept into the narrow crack
inside me.
Soft as a whisper
warm as returning rain.
The mark I buried deep.
The emptiness I sidestepped…
became a threshold.
From the opening, light flowed,
calm, healing;
not to strike
but to illuminate and repair.
Its presence sank into my bones
flowing where sorrow had settled.
Turning every scar into a map
of where I had been
and where I could go.
Now I keep my chest open,
not to protect, not to perform.
But for the quiet truth
that what breaks us…
also makes room
for what saves us.
Time heals love's wound,
Truth seals it round.
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