You are my temple, the one I visit each day;
Your golden shades wave from a distance,
Your windows look out to the world, yet hide
What’s within.

Your marble walls show strength,
With fine lines and cracks on side,
Yet you are still beautiful to me.

Your doors, once open to all, have now been shut,
Innocence transformed into heinous mockery
By an act of violent intrusion by another’s hand.

And my worship must now be visual,
I leave you be, for you may shun me,
Not out of hate but precaution and fear.

I will wait for you as you heal,
As the cracks begin to heal and form stories,
As the minutes make you wiser and stronger,
As the memory loosens its grip on you,
I will wait for you as you heal.

Let me offer you the gift of time,
And if you wish, allow me to restore you—
Don’t let this temple be destroyed by your
Inner tempest.

And when the tempests come, I will stand with you,
I will take the rain upon my cheeks and stay here,
Until the tempests pass.

And when the tempests go and the sky arrive,
I will be here and I will wait for you,
Until the day comes when you are well
And I have your permission to enter.