The words reached out and
Gripped me.
They held the collar
Of my shirt.
But they were not harsh.
They did not
Push me into the wall.
They simply
Held me so I would not
Turn my head
When they proclaimed
“I Love You.”

When I pray,
I stand on my Father’s shoes.
I feel Him sway beneath me,
Leading me in a dance
Only He knows the steps to.

I screamed when the light hit me.
The sun seared my eyes.
I was used to dank sheets
And grey walls burdened by drapes.
The darkness was my friend.
For years, I was convinced
That it didn’t hurt me.
Because it did it slowly, softly, like
The words of someone
Who leaves you wanting.
Pleas and soft reasurrances—
“You don’t know. . .
. . .What’s out there.”
Can I not be afraid of the familiar?
Yet, it still took strong arms
To drag me outside.
And I screamed when my eyes
Hit the blinding light.
It was too warm.
I liked cold love, detached love,
Like a suffocating pillow.
Dark love that froze
My heart over time.
The warm light pierced everything
I thought I knew.
It reminded me what it felt
Like to be alive under God,
Instead of living to spite Love Himself.