The below poem was emailed to Me, and I was given permission to reprint it here anonymously. I've missed you all very much.
Will our heavenly bodies have scars?
I would think our blemishes would
get photoshopped clean.
But Jesus came back with scars.
Holes in his side, his wrists.
Maybe that doesn’t count.
Maybe he wasn’t in Heaven yet
And thus yet to get his new body.
He would look cool with his scars,
Glowing gold with his long brown hair
and jagged scars like wrist tattoos,
maybe a little indented, on all four sides.
Although I only have a few,
I like my scars.
They are who I am, part of me.
I like my creek rock damaged shin.
What about emotional scars?
Will I remember giving that black eye?
Will I remember Jr. High?
If this is all taken away,
is it replaced with something better?
And if so, am I no longer me?
Some sort of holy me
which I currently can hardly relate?
Will I like the perfect version of myself?
Will the flawed me disappear from existence?
Perhaps there will be heavenly video footage
stored in the holy library,
videos of our whole lives,
of who we were,
before we were made right.