Thursday, April 7, 2011
a thousand sorry's
You've known her and you've loved her and you've wondered,
[because of your own brokenness]
if her strong arms and fierce independence have come from pushing back the weight of secret doors
for so many years.
You wait and you pray and you trust your God with his daughter
and then a tipping point is reached
and she decides she no longer wants the fight.
She lets loved ones in, come down the stairs, watch your step in these shadows,
where no light has shone.
And then she says you can come in, too
and you step gingerly [you don't deserve to be trusted like this]
and you turn the corner
and you see it, there.
You weep for the innocence lost. You weep for the years she spent, sentenced to this dungeon, shouldering the atrocities all alone. You weep because you cannot undo it. You weep because a thousand I'm sorry's cannot remove the stench of evil. You weep hot tears whose cries for justice drown out mercy's voice.
For a later time, books and counseling, wisdom from the healing road and prayer will all find their place, will each take their turn. She'll take even bolder steps away from this place, Savior's hand held tight.
For now, Silence and Sadness are the only welcomed friends.
For now, a thousand sorry's.