She wears a stain, a purple smudge, upon her shame-drenched soul;
A wine splotch to remind her of the booze that ate her whole.
A heavy burden, that old stain, to carry all her days;
A ticking time-bomb blasting up her inner working’s ways.
She has resigned herself to suffer under its strong mark –
To carry consequences grave, alone in hidden dark.
But healing comes when grace collides with weaknesses and pain;
She meets the One who gave His all, to make her whole again,
And now her stain, instead of shame, is shining like a light
To beckon others to the path where healing is in sight.
Bloom on, brave heart, your beauty shines from soul which suffered loss;
Your stain’s a mark that points the way to find hope at the Cross.