The Love of Keeping Home

Monday, August 6, 2012

What does it look like when a woman takes a stand.

When she says enough.

When she begins to free her heart from the sadness.

When she turns her head from the pain.

When she sheds the deep and

reigns in the light.

When she closes the broken door.

When she walks away.

When familiar becomes distant


happiness becomes new.

Burying the weak that holds her down under the compression.

So strong, entirely too controlled.

The heap of years past bears too heavy.

She can't breath, this weight finds powerful.

She fights for air. The thick cloud of waste hovers.
Waste of time, waste of love, waste of life.

Hovers until she's engulfed. She waits in silence.

She pleads with her savior. She sits in the dark.

Looking turns seeking; seeking turns found.

His palm is out. She hears the soft words "take hold."

 Rising her head from the dark, she lifts her chin to His light.

He comforts her soul. Her pain descends upward.

Pain is thrown into the fire. Ashes fade into thin air.

They cleave to their own understanding.

They persuade her with their distorted notions.

Understanding are they not.

Judgmental though are they.

They use His words not to help but to patronize.

She longs for rest. Hundreds of miles away is she.

Still not far enough. 

With every turn there they are.

Searching through fine print to correct the error in her ways.

The error of escape...freedom.

They want her to exist in their desires.

She does not matter. Her heart does not count.

They say she's sad, lost, broken.

But do they listen to those words spoken?

They tell her:

Better to remain in shattered reality than to

 live among her dreams.

In this moment she runs. She runs toward all she's ever envisioned.

Running towards the light from her window. The same light she's followed

in her dreams. It stands there...smiling. 

Thanks for reading with me :)