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The Script

The Script

Written by Kate Hurley / 18.11.2020

There’s a story that I’ve listened to

A script inside my head

A fable I have chosen to believe

Again and again

Written by a million hands

From the moment I first breathed

And this broken story that I was told

Became the story I believed

A monologue that says I’m not good enough

A myth that says I don’t belong

A plot that tells me I’m not beautiful

A crying out for love

These stories I believed became

My lens, my looking glass

I saw the world in that broken light

My present defined by my past

And what I chose to see through that glass

Became how I saw myself

Became how I gave and received love

Became my heaven or my hell

These wayward stories within me

This wandering prodigal mind

Needed someone that loved me to call me home

And rewrite the storyline

O great Love, great Author of all

I let someone else determine my worth

I let someone else write these lines in my head

When the story was always yours

Will you come reclaim my story?

Will you come and change this lens?

Will you come and rewrite this tired script

From the beginning to the end?

Not only the days I live through now

And the days that have not come yet

But all those moments I left behind

That I wanted to forget?

Only You can love me so deep

That these lies I believed are forgiven

Only You can hold me so tight

That my future and past is rewritten

So I will trade this story I’ve held onto so long

I will trade all my ashes for beauty

The story that defines me, the story that is true

Is the story of how deep you love me.

 

Category: Inner Healing Blog

Tags: Stories, Inner Dialogue

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You are stronger than you think you are. 

 

You, your hands dirtied with the soil where you till up the rocks of generations gone by. Your tears watering the ground, making the roots grow deep and wide while you are unaware. You labor, you dig, you claw this tiny piece of land where others buried their dreams and gave up trying. 

 

But not you. You keep going.You never give up. You see the tree in the seed, and you will fight until that tree is standing before you, it's long willowing arms grasping your hope in its branches. 

 

You are stronger than you think you are. 

 

You, covered in all your scars. Where your face was grazed with false imaginings that you were not beautiful enough. Where your hands were caught in fields of cotton when you didn't believe you were free. Where you were marked across your chest the day you thought that they left because you weren't worth it. Look closely, love. Look closely because those scars are gilded with gold. Those scars have become your crown. 

 

You are stronger than you think you are. 

 

You, dancing there with your face against the wind. Not a pretty dance, but a wild dance. A hold on for dear life to the hope dance. An I will never stop believing in your goodness dance. A shake the sadness off your skin dance. You, with your feet pounding against the ground to the rhythm of your unsurrendering spirit. With your knees soiled and bleeding from the prayers and the longings and the times you almost gave up. With your arms thrown up in surrender and beckoning and awe. There is burning against your back as you lift up your face, because your wings are returning, love. Your wings are returning.

 

Look at me and believe now. You are stronger than you think you are. Stronger than you think you are. 

 

 

 

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