She sat and uncontrollably wept.
She couldn’t hold them back, nor did she dare try.
Falling like rain, the streams created a warmth
On her silky flawless skin.
All that she carried, every blow, every punch, every slap
Every scream, broken bottle, and threat just fell.
All of years she hid in his shadow, dared not
Speak of his evil, of the hellish life he’s put her through.
She stood with no voice, no sound to use.
She stood with no ability to muddle a word.
In the light of that stain glass window, in the peace of the
Little empty church, all her chains fell to the very feet of Jesus.
With Love and Light
“It is not the the bruises on the body that hurt. It is the wounds of the heart and the scars on the mind.”
― Aisha Mirza