I trace the contours of the moon with my eyes. I once thought she was my ‘guiding light’, but I was so lost then. I cried out to You, but the skies were sealed to my desperate pleas. Muffled in silence I quietly wept. The despair was potent in the mere thought that there could be life without You.
People came and went, not caring. They didn’t need the moon, nor You or anything beyond that real and solid thing in front of them there, in that moment. I would rather die. Or be as if I had never been. I was suffocating, desperately longing, but You were not there, or so it seemed.
At a cross roads yet again, led by the aching of my soul, to find and to Be Found. My heart was shattered glass within me, I bled inside, and there was no Healer. And yet I knew. If I desperately searched, surely, somehow, someway I would find You. For I knew.
Seventeen. Reaching out for meaning. Being led and not seeing. Seeking to live in the depths of now, and yet so wounded. Trying to hold myself together in a fantasy. Trying to walk away from the pain. Inside, eleven, twelve, frozen in trauma and a child’s helpless sorrow. Where were you? Where are you now? I bleed. I bleed.
Is this the mid point? I saw You, I cried out for You, not Who or What anymore, but You and You came to me, rescued me, and are healing me. I belong to You and to no other.
Who is there in heaven but You? There is none that I desire, but *You*.
Your blood is that scarlet ribbon that ties me to You. Only in looking back can I trace the echoes of Your grace, the handprints of Your love, and the broken bread crumbs of Your Sacrifice, scattered along my path, hidden in darkness yet present each and every day.
If I am lost, it is in Your certainty. I do not know the path ahead, or how to heal what has been wounded. But You Are The Path. The Way that’s found me.
You trace the deepest caverns of my soul. And there, You Love me. Endlessly.