Everything Beautiful...

I repeat the promise to myself
over and over and over.
but it is so hard to believe
in the deep recesses of a calloused heart
that You will make everything beautiful.
Everything that you touch.
When I look in the mirror
it's not what I see.
I see the ugly scars
I've given myself
the places others have cut
the accidents and the willful wounds
how healed over.
Ugly.
But I remember the promise
like a worn note
in the pocket of washed jeans.
Will you really make Everything beautiful?
Surely not me.
Me?
The scars are too deep
the mess to big
the fabric too ripped,
wouldn't you rather scrap this idea
and begin anew.
but you don't
that wouldn't show how amazing you are.
You'd rather fix things
though I'll never understand
how this is making me beautiful
I'll trust you with this mess that I've become.
Perhaps the time is coming soon
when I'll see what You see.