Tree.

There is a girl that sits by a tree. She sits so close that it's hard to see her end and the trees beginning. The tree is large and beautiful, casting it's shade and protection over all this girl can see. The leaves are a constant shimmering golden orange. The roots go deep into the soil, attached to something so deep that her simple hands can't reach them. This tree keeps her safe. This is where she rests. Her only sanctuary. Then the winds come. Slowly and then all at once the leaves fall away and the harsh true reality hits her face. No longer shielded from the onslaught from the world. It now attacks her very being. 

This cycle isn't a new one. She has seen the leaves die and fly away before. The next moments make her shake. The darkness starts to edge towards her. It creeps along like the long cold fingers of the night. Teasing her with the vastness it holds and the wind whispering the names her heart carries that only she has known. The darkness covers everything her eyes can see. It covers as far as she can reach. Her precious tree no longer feels safe but she has nowhere else to go. This tree is the only place she can exist. For as long as this tree exist so will she but the tree isn't keeping her from the terror of the darkness. It's letting the terror come upon her. It's all that is left. Darkness. Unending it seems but she knows, she knows the shimmering golden orange leaves will return. 

She knows that sweetness of safety will come back. The tree can't leave her. It is always at her back holding her up but she is covered in darkness and the hope that the protection will come back can't save her from the fear. She is bound to her tree and her tree is bound to her. She will sit and wait. Digging her fingers into the bark and trying to grasp safety she can't have. As much as she shakes her tree never does. In the darkest of moments and loudest howling winds, her tree stands firm. The deep roots holding fast. She cannot force the change of moments. Her power and might cannot make the darkness fall back. Her hope and faith cannot make the beautiful orange leaves return.

So she waits and sits bound as deeply to this tree as this tree is to the ground. She is a girl hiding in the depths of this beautiful tree, covered in a terrifying darkness but always sitting at the foot of the tree.

Price.

The price was already paid. It was enough. It covered everything. It protected the world. It should satisfy my soul but here I am closer to you then I have ever been and more alone then ever. Treated as an unruly child by the ones I thought I were fighting with me, now form their own team. Placating me with half spoken words and distant eyes. Using my loneliness to tear me down more. I've experienced this before. I've been marked before. I thought I could wash that mark off but it is my calling card. The unstable, crazy, too emotional, too much, too broken girl. Socially awkward and if they were honest not worth their time. Treated like "special china" brought out and used when needed but locked away and forgotten all the other days.

How often they praised and celebrated this in me but they can't see the deep hurt it causes, every single time. Shouldn't the price paid cover all this? None of it is what I expected.  It seems I would have been better suited to exist alone because really isn't that how I exist now? Alone but trapped by the illusions that I am not alone. Offered a piece of family and hope only to have it ripped from my hands. Then taunted by the ones holding that prize. "You're too cold" "You don't show enough feelings" "You show too many feelings" "You can't be trusted" "You can't handle it" "You're too broken" "You don't have the right skills" Always picked last. Never wanted as part of the team. Sitting just on the outside of it all.

Why is the price paid not covering this pain? Shouldn't I stand firm on you? Holding fast to the never ending hope offered. Loudly proclaiming that  all I need is you? I wonder if people that shout of those graces ever truly only had you? Have they felt this deep loneliness that makes someone fear the next day? Have they been tainted by true darkness that knows their most personal names. Have they spent hours crying only to be told their tears don't count as much? Have they actually lost all that was special and dear to them? Left with the coldness that comes from having the ones that claim their love for you turn their backs on you because your brand of pain is too confusing? I doubt it. Because when it's just you and me, Jesus, it's really just you and me.

The only solace is the lonely place in my heart because it's the only place that's real. The deepest level of isolation brought on by your hand. I was naive to believe that this part of me would vanish. It can't vanish because it's the only part of me you use. You humble me daily with the reminder that in my most desperate of times and broken places I will stand alone on this earth to learn how to stand in front of you. How desperately I wish for any other gift. What good is the lesson of being this alone? To look into eyes and always see the same reluctant pity. The same pulling away, To be smacked again in the face with the reminder that each time someone had to choose it wasn't me they picked.

The price paid said you picked me and that is all I need. What happens to the ones you offer that truth too. The ones that can't be understood. The ones that see past the smile and know the thoughts that are behind it. How do those of us that you have made real the cost survive? Because the pain is just getting more and more unbearable. Crushing me down. Separating me more and more.

The perfect price paid is enough to sustain me, save me, and give me grace. But the truth of this world is that nothing will truly heal me on this earth. Few will breathe these painful breaths. Many will assume they know but most will abandoned or leave. I only stand protected with you at the foot of the cross. Anywhere else the cold stinging pain will overtake. The truth of how alone I am will swallow me. All the days this ache will be there. The truth of how alone I am is my saving grace and reminder of your mercies made new. You allow my heart to be crushed and pain to eat away at my heart so that I can see you better. So that I can understand the cost of that price paid.

Ghost.

She seeks her solace in the comfort of the hard shower floor. There her tears are safe. Trapped and covered by the hot flowing water. Confined by the small space and allowed to exist and feel. She ceases to exist the second she leaves it. She becomes a ghost again. Unable to be. Unable to truly be a part of the world. Floating through these days. Never fully attached. A bothersome nuisance; unwanted but unable to disappear. Trapped here by an unseen hand.

 They hear her cries and wails. They see the destruction of her pain. They turn away though unsure of how to handle this creation. Little do they know how it was them that created this ghost. This former version of herself. Hallowed out and emptied of everything that had held her down. 

Her existence now floating about and breaking about and breaking off the last of her old self. A new creation but still attached to this world but cast out by it. Their eyes stare right through her. She once existed so strong and her feet held tight to the sturdy ground. She once had purpose and a path. 

She once existed.

 Now she can even see through herself. She can see the inner parts of herself and doesn't like what she sees. The ugly hate filled parts. The self that she relies on to protect her own heart. The deep cut of cynicism that allows her to escape. For her the weights of the world hold her here and break her apart. The constant attack on her mind and heart kills her. 

No one on this earth can help her. No one here can see the damage. The people around her only know she exists but don't understand where she belongs. So they pass her by, concerned by her cries, fearful of her wailing, and unaware of how deep her pain is. It's a cruel and wary place to exist. To be the ghost of herself.

 How can this be? How can she have come so far from where she started only to fall back to where she had begun? She had been a ghost before. She had been made whole and complete. Filled to overflowing and solid. The anger of how she is again here shakes her. Why would this girl be given a taste of freedom if the plan was to put her shackles back on? Why would she be made part of this world if the plan was to strip her of it? 

This seems like the purpose of her life. The constant temptation of earthly comforts to be met with the delusion of false hope. Met firmly in the heart with the reality of how broken it all is. Forced to see it, taste it, and hear it. Unable to touch it or exist in it. 

Marked by her Savior as one that can't exist here but attached to this world. 

What will become of this forgotten and alone ghost? This is where she will always be because it is where she has always been. Seeking her solace in the moments she can escape. Finding it only when she is alone. On the cold floors and tiny spaces of this world so that her empty self can find pieces of hope and freedom.

She is a ghost. Untouchable. Her fate already sealed, promised, and delivered. She will take these steps alone. Floating through the broken paths and cut up roads. Feeling the pains and dying each day. Saved though by her ghost like existence because that's who she was made to be. Saved in her drowning pain and met by the Savior in the tears and loneliness. 

She is a ghost but she attached to His hand.

Piece.

All the words are jumbled up. The feelings beginning and ending together. The tears flow from deep within. From a place I cannot name and do not know. 

This place inside me crawls out of my deepest parts. The place that I fall apart alone with you. Where only you can see me. The softest part of my heart and mind exist. The place where I am my most weak. Where your voice is the only one I hear. This is the place I die. Every day. The only place you can save me. 

I've spent every moment of my life hiding this place. Only to have you rip me apart and expose it. You use it for your glory. My pride a causality of this fight. That's why I am so mad, isn't it? You took me apart, in front of others, let them see a part of this place inside. 

I spent years protecting it, a lifetime. Perfectly cultivating how much I would show. 

Then you and I crashed into each other. You tore me open so I stood without cover. I thought it was for a certain path or reason but that path is now closed. Now that girl is gone. That child that could hide as easily as she could breathe no longer controls me.

You exposed the liar in me and replaced it with Truth. But for what? That's the part that is burning me with anger. Little specks of indifference growing. The black cut across my heart scrabbling to gain more territory. That person that died frantically trying to rise because my mind is convinced you did this, out of spite. 

Built me up to let me fall. After all isn't that what all of this is worth? No one left on my team. No one left to stand beside me. Each day, week, and month I have lost more and more. The stability I am positive you allowed and created now broken and in shambles. 

Is this a game? Was it all for your amusement? Did you enjoy my falling apart? The blood poured out and the unending tears? Was it worth it? 

Blindsided by the destruction and left grasping at the edges of everything that was safe. Everything that was home. More and more, taken and gone. I have lost so much through my years but more you 

take. More you ask me to give. 

The broken up hands that hold on so desperately are trying to hold onto anything I can grasp, still you ask for more.
"Uncurl your hands child. Let me have that piece too." 
I can't give it up. I can't loose this piece, Jesus. Let me keep this one. Even as it burns into my flesh and scars my hands because it is no longer mine I don't let go. 

You stand before me with outreached hands expectantly waiting. This impasse between you and me doesn't seem to be ending. I'm just falling apart more and more. Being mocked by own voices. The mirror I stand before and battle my demons. The demons are my own words. 

I can't let go of this piece because this piece is me, God.  It's me your asking to take. Round and round we go. Circling around until we come to this place again. My hands covered in blood from my wounds. Your hands waiting patiently. Jesus I don't know if I can let go. I don't know if I can give up this piece.

 All these tears and pains but no relief. All that is left is the pain. 

You, me, and the pain.

Battle.

It's done. Over. You are good. You are right. This is broken. It's not the end I wanted. It's not what I thought I was fighting for. I feel sick and broken. Confused. Blood covering me from the battle. Wounded so deeply this will now shape my heart. A calloused heart cursed by hope, Your hope. Your perfection. I'm so tired of it all. The assumptions put in my feelings. The broken pieces my hands are so desperately holding onto; wanting to put it back together. The pieces shatter more and cut my already bleeding hands. Left on the battlefield. We lost. I lost my home. I lost my place. I lost my very thoughts. The fog that came in surrounding me is now so thick I can't breathe. This fog is more like smoke choking me. I look around to see the destruction. Fallen soldiers. Broken hearts. Betrayers that grin smugly. The enemy seems to gloat with pride. But you remind me that you won. The war isn't up for grabs. The final peace is decided. I have given everything for this fight. I have never given more. You have never taken more. The pain hurts so bad that I feel like throwing up. Disgusted by sin and the rejoicing men take in it. The pride that swells when other feel like they have won. You asked me if I would be made a fool for you. If all I stood for was to watch something die would I still stand for you? Could I follow you as I was abandoned more and more? Could I not run away? Could I be your fool? I said yes. I wish I had said no. It wouldn't hurt this bad if I had said no. If I had known it would hurt this much I would have said no. I don't want this. I keep asking you to make this all a dream but the reality of it crashed into my soul. A forgotten lone solider. Defeated and alone. Crying out to her savior to take away this pain. Left only with the broken fragments in her grasp. That solider is me. All my fears you keep confirming. Twisting me up and letting me fall apart. Shining lights through all those cracks. But I'm tired of breaking. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired. I can't take anymore steps. I don't have any fight left. I don't want to watch them take away my home piece by piece. I don't care if it's stronger afterward. I don't care. I just want it back God. God, why did you allow this?! WHY?! The stench of lose is too great to handle. Turning my stomach upside down. It's just you and me again Lord. Face to face. You taking me apart, using my splintered parts and sharp edges. Hope that is foreign to my mouth is all I have again. Grace that I can't claim is the only thing I have. Reminded again that my only home is at the foot of the cross. Many more battles will rage. I will break more and more. You will use all the parts of me. I will be alone because that's where you and I meet. I will feel your joy because you are good. Right now though, right now I will fall down and cry because my heart break and all that's left in this broken girl is a tired worn solider. Your glory will reign while mine falls away.

wait.

wait. hold on. my heart screaming for this all to slow down. it cant be this. this cant be the end. heartbreaking. tears streaming down my face. hands shaking with unease. wait. cant we change it? cant you let us have one more day? cant you stop this? the frantic panic of fear is setting in. like how the fog rolls in and covers all our eyes can see. we wait. broken and sad. alone but bound together by some unseen hands. can i just have one more day? can i just have one more moment? why? the question so small but all consuming. every moment covered in the why. no answers seem to fit. no answers seem to make it ok. everything seems so divided, everyone seems so divided. you are unmoved and unchanged. you are not surpised. you werent shocked. i am. how do i go forward? thats been your call....forward. how? wait. cant we fix this? cant we have a different end? what was all the fight for if this was the end? is it all for nothing more than broken hearts and broken people? i cant move. my flesh is stinging. my heart is shattered. my soul is crying out. my eyes are filled with tears. i cant go forward anymore. i fall to the ground, the weight is too much. the only words that come are "please wait." you could make this stop. you could do it. but you didnt. so i wait. i cant stop this pain that is oozing out of the people i love; out of myself. like a bullet that pierced my heart. i cant make it stop. i cant protect the others. i cant change this. i cant see the grace that you offer. i cant find your sweetness in this. all i taste is the disgusting pride that would tear a man down. that wait for the weak to fall. vultures that circle now wanting to tear at our scared felsh. i dont see you. where are you? why didnt you step in? why didnt you stop this destruction? wait. i cant wait because im falling apart. piece by piece being torn apart more and more. stop telling me to wait! stop telling me of your faithfulness! stop letting this hurt! all thats left is the carnage left on a wake of sin. i saw it! i saw the beauty and hope! the foundations being built on you. allowed to be torn down by those hungry dogs thirsty for the blood of our souls. they anxiously awaited this day. you let them have it. why? why? im empty. im lost out in the wilderness, bleeding out. unsure of who is friend and who is foe. crying out but left to bleed. wait. thats the only word you have given. wait. there is no other choice. there are no words. there is nothing but you and me. me laying on the cold stone ground, broken apart looking up towards the sky longing for hope to return. you standing firm, saving me with unknown grace that attacks my soul. waiting for the pain to leave. waiting for the answers to come. waiting for more than the words of wait. spent and empty. angry and confused. sad and lost. only making through the knowledge that you knew. so i wait.

Left.

She left. The first memory my mind holds is noticeably cold. Years spent longing for the affection she should give. Years spent trying to hide all the parts that she hated. I knew how different I was to her. I could see it every time she looked at me. Her eyes cold and indifferent. There was no comfort. When sickness overtook my body I was left alone. When tears of pain and sadness poured from my eyes her voice mocked and shamed. When my child sized hands held prizes earned her indifference was noted and held onto tightly by my heart. The times that I handed over the things I so proudly accomplished were met time after time with the heartbreaking silence broke my heart until it shattered. She was always there but she left me. I cry now wishing I knew why. Wishing I could have been the one she wanted. Wishing I wasn't the one that was different. I used to think she was just incapable of love but she loved them. I covered my eyes to hide the truth that it was me she didn't want. She made the choices right in front of me. She applauded them. She comforted them. She went to them. She left me. I am broken by it. By her unwillingness to see me. Scared so deeply that I have been broken beyond earthly repair. I carry the burden she put on me and will never escape it. Desperately I sought out her love and approval but honestly so broken before I reached double digits that I had turned cold. It's a sad thing to look in a mirror by 10 and know that you aren't loved. Seeing the cold and empty soul starring back at you. She left me but she left me long before the moment I never saw her again. An orphan that world couldn't justify. Heart torn apart every time I saw another person loved. It's a sad thing to know that love is what breaks a person. It's a sad thing that the simplest of affections makes me cringe because I never knew it as a child.

All these years later I'm still alone. Saved completely and loved desperately but alone. An orphan that doesn't fit. The one that was never chosen by the one that should have picked me first. The pain always there. It won't heal. Somedays it just won't hurt as bad. Other days the pain so raw it will crush me into pieces. Tears will stain my face. Forced into a curled up ball because the sadness is too much to bear alone. But no one can take the pain away. She left me. She marked me as unwanted and tore apart my soul so that no one would ever be able to fix it. Doomed to walk this world as a lost child. The only sweetness coming from the only place I ever been safe, the foot of the Cross. Where my savior was left alone and broken. The only place where there exists a chance for hope. That's my sweet redemption. That He never left. He stood there every time she turned away. Each time she broke me He caught me. Every time my heart was the causality of her games and her cold eyes told me the truth of how unwanted I was, He was there holding me together. Still He saves me and is the one there. Offering grace. Offering hope.

He is the place inside where my truest form exists. The only one that has seen how broken I am. How deep the damage is into my soul. He can see it all. He is broken with me.

She left me. Alone. Broken. Tore apart.
He came to me. Forgiven. Loved. Made new.

Only He and I know the words to the song left in my heart. Only He and I can see the pictures painted in my mind. Only He and I can read the words written across my soul. Only Him and me.

Pretender Redeemed.

Chipped. Broken. Pushed aside. Cast off. Black Sheep. All her life these words defined her. Held her identity tight. Taking over all hope. Taught to hold back and push away. Too many time. A child broken into too many pieces to made whole again. A restless wanderer. Cover it up. Make believe in the idea of perfection. The companions made along the way taught her the words.  Too aware of her surroundings and the pain. She can’t feel the pain. It will break her.

Mimic.

She learned her greatest life skill. Mimic the feelings. The game is how she survives. Success is as dangerous as failure. Fade away. Drift into the distance. She’s still too aware. She can see too much and understand it. Those feelings are too much. Those truths are too dangerous.

Mimic. Copy. Hide. Repeat it. Over and over.

Until it becomes her song. The only relief she can find is in the game of pretend. The only safety she can absorb is in the fake feelings. Her lifelong companions taught her this. They shift pieces of her around. Confusing her more. Hurting her but convincing her that the pain isn’t as bad as the feelings that circle her.

Crazy.

That’s the word she fears. They will call her crazy again. They will mock her with it. Better to be separate than to be crazy. Pride covers her and the arrogance of being aware let’s her drift about. Never known.

Manipulate. Control. Hide. Keep Mimicking.

All the pieces of her broken soul cut. Hope that isn't hers starts calling her name. NO! Rage shoots through her. The one thing she can’t have is to be called forward. Her life depends completely on this. This hope won’t listen. She begs it to leave. Everyone has left her. She has left everyone. She is marked by it. There are too many broken pieces to be made whole. Her companions remind her of this and she clings to desperately. Another voice starts to whisper to her. She can’t bear it though. All those hidden feelings threaten her. No. She’s built her life around this. She can keep them away. She will hide more. The whispering voice can be ignored.

Mimic more.

Play a better game. The whispers more constant. Her companions mock her weakness. They tell her how she will be exposed. That if those whispers get through they will bring the feelings she can’t handle. Reminders of how weak she is crash into her.

Unwanted. Not needed. Fake.

She’s painted herself into a corner. Too broken to move forward. Too aware to trust. The incoming hope is too much though. Fixing pieces of her broken soul without her consent. It stings and her ever present companions remind her of how this proves her failures.

Mimic and pretend.

People without broken souls don’t have to be fixed. Fall back and hide. Don’t step forward. The girl is crushed under the weight.  Slipping farther and farther away. Reality more confused with her game of pretend. The muddles whispers break through her harden shell bit by bit. Drawing her against her will. She makes a new game. A mix of pretend and real. The feelings must stay away she bargains. She will bring along her faithful companions. The whispers challenge her but she ignores the words. Seeking only the bit of comfort she can find.

War. Broken.

The sharp edges of her soul cutting more and more. Her fears confirmed.

Rejection.  Alone. Fear.

Mocked for the feeling and knowledge. Unknowingly crushed by others. The hopeful whispers and fear collide together. Refusing to mix like oil and water. Tearing the girl apart internally. She has practice though. A master of the game of pretend. She lives there in the chaos. Willingly tossed around. Refusing the anchor. She know the cost of choosing. Notice. People will see her. Years and years of being the fake. Mimicking is her way. She can keep going. She decides. She controls. The forward march breaking bits off her shell. For all her awareness she can’t see the what’s happening to her. Blinded deeply to her own self. The wounds start to bleed more. She won’t acknowledge where they came from. She will ignore it still.

Blood pouring out. Scars burning like fire. Terror building up.

Crazy. Lost. Hopeless.

Her companion’s voices remind her of what is at stake. Hold it together. Keep pretending. It’s all falling apart. Her cries are frantic. She can feel it breaking now. Her companions mock her. The whispering voice is getting louder. She is stuck. Unable to move. She can’t handle the fight. Desperate, clinging to all she knows. But it keeps falling apart. She can’t find her familiar choice. Fog has covered all she knows. Her companions yell and fight. They turn on her. Blaming her. Confusion? Aren't they her most faithful help? They have protected her for so long. The whispering voice is now louder than anything.

Silence. Alone.

For the first time she hears silence. All the voices of her companions stop. She is exposed. Scared. She won’t look up. She knows the look of disappointment. She can see how she was fooled and tricked. Tossed about by choice. She won’t bend still. To look up would be failure. She can’t move from the prison she made herself. Locked away by her own self. The words rush forward into her mouth but she keeps them locked away.

Confession. Truth. Light. Freedom.

She won’t listen. This must be a trick. Those words are not true. She tried that before and she was attacked. She will not again risk it. Anger rising up. It seeps out. Finally. Years of anger realized. She can’t stop it. She on so tight for so long. Hidden away in the depths of her inner most being. Her biggest game of pretend, finally broken. Her jagged soul shattering again. Pieces cutting her and drawing blood. She cries out in pain.

NO!

She will not feel this. She is a fake. She knows it. Whispers come again. The silence that had been filled with her screams now filled with whispers of a familiar voice. She begins to lean into the voice. Suddenly though like then a sudden wave dragging her under those familiar companions return. It’s different this time, their once calm face now contorted and snarling. The rage in their eyes burns. Their voices hallow and angry. They grasp for her and claw at her face.

More blood drawn.

She already knows what she will do, give up. Return to them because the fight is too much. As suddenly as that wave of misery hit so the resounding roar of the voice that was just a whisper. Silence again. She can feel the fear radiating off her old companions. Confusion comes again. They fear nothing. Cocky with pride, always. Now weak and cracking. Whimpering away. Their nasty faces turn back to her and screeching their last taunt, “YOU WILL FAIL!” She shudders and falls. Their words sting.The roaring voice speaks directly to her in a whisper. “Child you are mine. You are made whole by me.”

Fear. 

She has never been whole. She has never been loves. She can’t be now. She can’t be shown. Her games are too complicated. She can’t feel anymore. She is a mimic and fake.

Lost. Broken. Hopeless. His.

All her wounds expose her hurt. Slowly and painfully she feels them begin to heal. She didn't ask for it though. Grace. This foreign word barges into her soul. It makes no sense. How can grace be for her? How can anything make her whole? Her broken shattered soul is in too many pieces. Slowly her ears bend. Her will changes. The voice closest to her becomes his whispers.

Forward. Strength. Wise. Words that can’t belong to her but He has given to her. Clean. Hope. Whole. She is lost in them. Their power divine. Then she is reminded.

Broken. Fake. Mimic.

The taunts grow again. These familiar voices beckon her and her will begins to crumble. She can’t bare their call. Their once sweet words and welcoming faces disgust her now. Their faces marred and snarled like monsters. Their voices howl like that of a dying animal. They can smell her weakness like a wild dog can smell the blood of its prey. Every slip and they are there. Never relenting. She knows this. Too often still she is tempted to turn into these voices. The pull great. She wonders how she will ever be fear. Her whispering savior reminds her that she already is. But these old friends touch her and she can feel it. Their long cold heavy fingers leaving traces on her. Surely she can’t be cleaned now. She made her bed with them. Willingly choosing them. Asking for their distraction. She believes their slick lies again. She trusts them more. Because what they say is true.

Like thunder crashing his whispering voice cracks. “NO! What is mine is mine!”

Fallen broken pieces. Tears well up. No one has claimed her. No one showed her persistent truth. No one stood for her. They all let her break and took joy in it. Their extreme silence and ignorance of her soul broke her more than anything. She became the master of pretend to hide from them. She mimicked to separate from them. She sees it now. She sees the one who was persistent. She knows His name. More importantly, He knew hers. She sees how He saw her the whole time. Never once outside of His vision. All her games fooled herself most of all but never Him. He knew the whole time what she was doing. He knew she would fail. Her face is shocked.

He knew.

Her jagged broken wasn't hidden from Him. It wasn't cutting Him as it cut everyone else.

Still the dark voices of her past come to attack. Still she falls for it. Weakened and fearful. Desperation. She sees the cycle and cannot break it. Time and time again she stumbles. Sometimes even intentionally looking to lash out. Her flesh winning and feasting on the game of pretend it craves. Her old companions taunt her with how they have won. Always though the whispers call her back longing for her. Welcoming her into the safety of His words.

Still she feels the hot breath of her oldest companions following her. She longs to be free of it. The whispering voice continues to speak to her until that is the voice she knows best. He won’t release her from these harsh tormentors though. They are a burden she must bare to better understand the whispers.

Weak. Tired. Worn. Broken.

But this broken is new and different. It isn't hurting her. It makes her broken soul make sense. Her cost was so high. It took apart everything she was and the scars left cut so deep she can’t see their end. Her shaking body can’t withstand it but she can see that it’s no longer her that holds herself up. She can withstand the near constant assault because her soul can no longer be hurt. The deepest cute only scratch her surface. They hurt and she cries out for relief but the still constant voice always speaking over her tells her “Child you are mine”

Broken and jagged soul that cuts her. Broken and sad heart that scares her. Pretend and mimic that bind her up. Lost and alone for all her days. Those are the wounds that she carries. Those are her legacy. Until new life was breathed into her. She is still those things but no longer are those wounds going to destroy her. This whispers have turned them into her strengths.

Her broken parts show the goodness of His whispers. She only stand firm because of her weakness. Her desperation to be hidden only draws her out more and more. Her all to awareness lets her only see His light now. The ugly voices that spoke her name for long can no longer speak it because it is wrapped in perfection, that she does not own but was given to her. They scream and shout at her. They touch and attack but no longer can they claim her.

Found. Kept. Loved. Cherished.

She is no longer alone. She belongs to the whispers of the one that perfectly loves her before the start.