Rage.
Pregnant with fury.
How could the birth be beautiful?
The labor pains are agony.
Knives ripping out my insides.  

Blood.
With your sigh of pleasure, I lose my last drop of life.
My hands are scarlet with shame.
Naked I stand in the night breeze.
Ivory curves and dead eyes.

Sorrow.
Stripped of dignity.
I try to hold my shaking hands still.
I feel unworthy to meet your gaze.
My humiliation haunts me.

Empty.

Change is scary when
it leaves me behind and makes me wonder
if something is wrong with the way things were-or even worse
if there is something wrong with
me.

Change is beautiful when
it invites me into a fresh gust of wind and
pulls me from a world that is stagnant into a land of
endless possibilities and
dreams.

Change was inevitable when
I took my first breath and found that
growing up means nothing stays the same;
this breaks my heart but brings me
hope.  

Change is proof of life
like when a seedling pushes through the ground to
tell the world it can grow
because it has
courage.

I pull the covers over my head to block the sound.
But it is deafening.
Tick, tock. The clock pounds his rhythm inside my head.
Taunting me as seconds of my life whirl by;
He parades my regrets around his circular face.
It drives me mad to hear myself die.
Tick, tock, ti---
I rip out the batteries before I count another lost minute.
It's the closest I can come to stopping time.
I pull the covers over my head.
Please dear God, let me sleep tonight.

Is it not strange and wonderful-
how pain makes beauty richer?
Show me your scars.
Show me your evil.
Show me your sorrow.
Read me the story of your redemption.
I am tired of your perfection.
I am tired of your strength.
Let me love you.

Home reminds me that
Nothing is like family
Our blood remains thick

Home is bittersweet
Mixing new with old is hard
But there is still love

Home delights my soul
The heart of our lives are good
I know I am blessed