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Personal Reflection:
We’re taught to treat our wounds as shame — something to hide, something to outgrow, something that proves we were weak. So we stitch them shut with silence, wrap them in distraction, or bury them under layers of toughness. But Rumi flips the script: what if the wound isn’t the end of the story, but the doorway?

The paradox is brutal — pain that breaks us also carves space inside us. A hollow we never wanted becomes the very place where truth, compassion, or resilience can finally take root. The wound becomes the breach that lets in light, not because the pain was noble, but because it stripped us of illusions we refused to let go of.

The light that enters doesn’t erase the scar. It doesn’t excuse the damage. Instead, it transforms it into something raw and unpolished — a reminder that what hurt us can also remake us. That our most fragile places are not only where we bleed, but also where we begin to see.

Reflective Prompt:
Where has pain carved an opening in you — and what unexpected light has entered through that hollow?