It takes time to not choose ignorance or bitterness.
It takes time to choose not to be desolate.
Most don't have the longevity, or the patience.
I'll look out hoping to find those stories of redemption;
I'll hope to be objective for a second.

Out there I'll find the truth in here.
In loving my neighbor, in giving, and praying.
In practice I'll find truth.
In tight-lipped, strength-inducing, liturgy.
I have little faith.
But I'll be what I was created to be
regardless of what feels right "naturally".
For truth I will choose.

I am daughter.
I am sister.
I am friend.
And one day, maybe,
I'll be a counter-part again.

I've had to wait and see
if my love will return to me.
He's gone to the garden,
marching around it's walls.
Thinking on all he's lost.
Streams he used to swim,
and trees he used to climb.
He remembered where he named the deer,
why and when.
He thinks on his old life often.
And I don't know if i'll ever see him
like I did when we first met.

My mother, Eve, was never without Adam.
But I've been without him.
I still don't understand.
Created for experience of
both design and collaboration.

By the one true story,
and by all the insane little stories that happen in between.
I am daughter.
I am sister.
I am friend.

It takes time to not choose ignorance or bitterness.
It takes time to choose not to be a desolate woman.