In a world awash with contrasts, a dance of dark and light,
Where privilege strides with confidence, while pain endures the night,
I stand upon the threshold, eyes open, heart laid bare,
Acknowledging the power I hold, in this vast cosmic affair.

I’ve tasted life’s sweet nectar, been shielded from the storm,
Yet wounds reside within my soul, a shape that’s far from norm.
For in my depth, scars weave a tale, of battles fought and lost,
And thus, I wear the healer’s cloak, aware of its true cost.

To heal the world with hands that shake, from burdens borne within,
Is to acknowledge life’s cruel jests, its beauty marred by sin.
Yet it’s this very brokenness, this intimate dance with pain,
That crafts the healer’s tender touch, and love’s persistent refrain.

For in each wound, a lesson hides, in scars, wisdom does reside,
To reach out to the hurting souls, and stand, unflinching, by their side.
With privilege as my compass, and pain my guiding star,
I navigate the troubled seas, seeking souls, both near and far.

As a wounded healer, I tread, where others fear to go,
For in the dance of light and dark, true love and healing grow.