Beloved, sister of mine.

These words drizzle like honey
over two hours of hard words and
depths
too
deep
for one week. As they ooze, they seep into my pores and become apart of me. A glance of my reflection tells of a healing of a lifetime.
A Father must make new a home burned down.
There’s time yet, Beloved. There’s time.
But I’m in agony NOW.
Must I wait for the transformation of a lifetime? The healing of such deep wounds.
Beloved, sister of mine.
Breathe.
I choose to meet waiting with contentment as it sits on my mind, body, soul.