Home

Battered. Bruised. Broken.

Limping along hiding the shards that make up the shattered dreams she built from years of putting others first.

Shifting Sands from the foundation she swore was cemented so deeply it could never crack wide open to swallow her whole.

Trusting that Placing herself at the bottom of the needs and wants and desires of her life ensured that she would never be left behind.

Home is a prison of her own making.

How did she ignore all the leaks that she desperately filled

And filled

And filled

While he tore them open right behind her

A circle of brokenness where there was no escape

Until there was

He escaped into a fantasy life leaving her with the little souls they created that remind her of her failures that

Home is not a place for lies, not a place for deception, not a place to hide from the world

It is a place for the wounded to heal

To emerge

To swing open the windows of the heart as the beauty of yourself is laid bare

Walking wounded is not a curse but a blessing

Shifting sand can be cemented with authentic desires of truths known and unknown

She will rebuild her Home

For Home is the place where life is learned and shards are mended

Where beauty can be found

In the broken circles of what was

To create what is.