I am a lighthouse ,
my fire burning behind my eyes
from beneath  
all my
hollow walls
made of sinew
and flesh made
of masks and
raised scar tissues  
on foundation of brittle,
shaking bones.
vibrating harshly against every storm,

someone beautiful told me
I am more then the compilation of all these scars
and not to worry so closely over my broken bits
I am more than the sum of my parts.
I am no ship wreck
I am no cold stone
or simple sharp edge
I am no longer afraid of the marks
carved into my flesh
while scooping up my shattered sense
of self image

broken mirrors
become the stepping stones
to torn down walls
and open spaces
to the waiting arms
of vacancy
of lonely
of alone
and eventually
of a new home
just needed time in my own skin
and to be brave enough
to look in the mirror ,
here is to
better self images,
Still
after all this renovation
I am
still the
lighthouse
still waiting for you to come home.