By Hannah Morales

I lay in bed,
my limbs asleep,
yet my soul and spirit rise
to be with my Great Lover.
When tears take their hatchet
to break down my doors,
I run into my Lover’s arms.
He turns my soul into a guitar,
strumming each single string of my heart.
Slowly, He sings a lullaby
and my anxieties fall asleep with my worry.
In my dreams, I see my Lover painting.
He uses pain to paint the colors of grace,
forming an image of love to comfort my soul.
My Great Lover listens
to my orchestra of cries,
understands every thorn on my stem,
reminds me of how my tears
water the seed He has planted within me.

He stays and promises never to leave.

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