For this adopted girl, the way home has been a climb and a falling into. A climb out of a dark pit of knowing. And a falling into an unknowing of all you’ve known so far.
It’s been a trusting that God has a plan that you yourself don’t even understand. It’s an unwinding and a rewinding. To begin again.
The path as been steep and rocky filled with monsters and angels lighting the way.
It’s like feeling your way in the darkness holding God’s ever present hand. Clinging to the red inks and being stained with fluorescent light.
The way home to yourself as God knows you and a letting go of all anyone tried to say about you.
Facing the harsh wind of criticism and begging for the truth within to shine.
Walking with your heart on your sleeve and praying for it’s protection.
What is a name? For I’ve had a few.
But what is a soul that you’ve known since time began and you names written all in sand.
Being a rock crushed into sand. And having God torch you back into a rock bow glass for all to see the light within shining the light of love eternal flame.
The way home paved with bricks that wobble. Not knowing if you will perish. The journey seeming treacherous and murky.
What’s leaking around the next corner?
And will Mama being waiting when you reach the end? A friend.
I’m weary of climbing and falling. When her arms are all I hear calling. Me higher and lower.
Echoes of her voice within you. Dna fragments. Refracting on everything around you.
You call in an echo back, “where are you?”
And God’s hand pulling you along while crying in fear. “No, I’m tired”.
The way home to the you you know lives within. Just wishing to be seen as no sin.
Words escape my mind. Written her in time.
Breathing toxins thrust down your throat. You cough them back up and choke down the truth.
Longing for home with all you are.
Longing for the one you know yourself to be beyond all that was said by anybody.
Focus. Head straight. Look not left. Look not right.
You keep saying the words written with ink, ” I know the blessings I have for thee”
Begging god, ” are we there yet, I’m tired of demons”
When will my new day come? When will my Mamas brown eyes I can see into?
My way home.
An orphaned child. Longing for family and tea to drink with love all around.
My way home.