It's been a year of unraveling the darkness, trying to find a way out

A year spent in fear, like a shaking animal, stuck from the terror that came with the wolf. 

How does a lamb fight back?

I've learned to notice, maybe too much, maybe something that isn't there, 

but then it always pops up

so now I question everyone who seems too good. 

Yesterday I got told I'm a faithful daughter, and I replied "really?" and i sounded so sincere. Because I truly was suprised. Were they lying? Did they have an agenda? Did they hear God? Or did God really find me faithful in the midst of my battle with these preying beasts. I don't know. 

But there was one woman, with fierce eyeliner, looking straight at me, 

telling me about the visions I've had. 

A prophecy unfolding.

The prayer also touched me, in a way that made me tremble and I wished it

had continued until all of the marks from the scratches on my heart would be healed

and I could move on,

but no,

it wasn't the time for complete walking away from the pain I was left with.

The pain is a paintbrush, using my tears as the paint. Creating something that won't only

be healing to me, but for someone else, who is licking their wounds, completely alone (they think) but no. 

There is someone, who they don't yet know,

rising up slowly from their hospital bed, 

leaving her tracks to follow, so they can also, one day, get up, but take it slow

Healing is a process, if we try to speed it, we end more wounded.

Our wounds bring us the closest to our Maker,

who hang on that wood, pierced, so we could make it.