The things they don’t tell you. The bruises that parenthood, motherhood, inflicts upon you. The constant doubt of whether what you do today will be good enough for tomorrow, and the many days, years, that are to follow.

Bruised.

The words they utter and the actions and hurt that come with it. That worrying sensation – how can I do better?

Bruised.

The doubt your fears cast as you look upon a society already scarred by the many kids whom have come before my own. Kids grown into adults. Adults who hurt others in far too many ways. Leaving me bleeding on the inside, hoping that mine will not follow in that path.

Bruised.

My thoughts, awaken within, a thirst for courage and MORE GRACE. MORE GRACE to respond with gentle kindness and understanding. Suppressing the hopelessness (and anger) that the pain and uncertainty brings. Emotions yet to be named as my thoughts rattle at the door of my soul.

Bruised. Intrigued am I by your transformation, from a light rosiness to a purple hue, soon to fade to nothingness. That process of forgiveness of self and others for the many bruises . . . Leaving a surreal feeling once you wake up, anew, ready to continue on this journey for eternity, with love – AND GRACE, to infinity.