The fragility of my heart
Was pressed into a thinly
Chained locket, grown
Pale and tarnished
In the hands
Of all those who 

Thought they knew me.

They tried to pry me open,
Breaking their nails in
The attempt to
Find the one thing
That kept their words
From hurting me.

But if they opened the
Heart-shaped cavity, they

Would find only the
Emptiness that reminded
Me of the world’s promises
And their futility.

A necklace of the World
Could not hold the Love
God had threaded into
My heart for eternity.

With every kindness I dispensed,
I pocketed another golden ticket,
Collecting them in a small,
Unassuming piggy bank of who
I thought I was.

“It is by grace you have been saved,
Not by works.”

I nodded numbly as the words
Siphoned through my head, well-meaning,
But never finding a proper home.

I was only who I made others
Believe I was.

I smiled as I counted my golden tickets,
Knowing, one day, I would turn them in
For a reward.

“Daughter, your faith has healed you.”

My heart was slow as my faith
Overwhelmed the logic
Of the world.

I tossed out the tickets one by one,
Knowing that becoming Christ,
Becoming Love Himself,
Was not measurable.

God would not judge me from behind
An arcade counter.

I dropped the joy I had gained
From glorifying myself,
And sat in silence,
Surrounded by the Reward
Of knowing Jesus Christ alone.

I was a chipped mosaic
Set into the worn sidewalk
Of a town who no longer
Celebrated its culture.

I was the old, dusty streetlamp
That disruped the orderly line
Of brightness along the road.

I was the floorboard
That buckled and sent
Children sprawling to
The floor.

I was the cabinet that never
Fully closed, its hinges forever
Remaining unoiled.

I was the rocking chair
That sat eerily still—
Old memories trapped
In the wood.