The Journey Home

My heart had turned to marble,

My body a crumbling rock,

My mind was a broken stone,

My soul- A forgotten crystal lock.

Yet still He stood, still He stands,

Dedicated to reach inside.

He chisels away,

In patience He stays,

He breaks through every part of the pain,

And reaches close to my heart.

The marble slick, starts crumbling,

He chisels the peices again.

Sharp slivers cut straight through my raw and tender skin.

Hard as rock,

But now washed soft,

My heart begins to beat.

A new and tender master piece.

In which He will soon be pleased.

Once hardened, now cleansed with cool water,

Softened to the touch,

He beckons and moves with delicate care,

A simplistic but needed snare.

My shoulders that slumped,

My eyes cast down,

I look away in shame.

His fingers are just so tender,

Lifting my chin, as it begins to quiver.

He stands me up,

Pulling me from,

My chasm of sorrow,

Lifting me from my fear of tomorrow.

No longer stuck,

A drifter without a home

A Nomad once unknown.

Now I stand,

On solid ground,

Filled and spilling over.

Scars now healed, but shining through

A tender well lived reminder.

He stood and chiseled,

Stood alone,

Knocking and waiting,

Slowly breaking through,

Just as a dedicated father would do.

Never alone, calling us ALL now,

From once our marbled frowns,

To the journey leading back around.

To the home we yet will know,

Far from the sorrow of our tired souls.

Like doves we may take flight,

His kindness a guiding light,

His tender touch,

And our hearts forever filled with love.