Bruises bloom along my body,
scars grace my face.
I lift my voice —
My God, my God —
I leapt.
The air did not become hands.
Witness
these scars of faith.
Bruises bloom along my body,
scars grace my face.
I lift my voice —
My God, my God —
I leapt.
The air did not become hands.
Witness
these scars of faith.