Glass Doors

The idea of him was foreign

She was too hung up on what she called home

Even though it brought her no peace, no joy, and made her feel alone

She stayed because it felt familiar

The noise of the strangers she housed sounded so similar

that it felt familiar

The idea of becoming the bone of his bone

and flesh of his flesh

No longer felt like it could be reality

She just wanted consistency

And even though the strangers she housed were consistently unhealthy

she ran with it

and each time she ran, she ran into glass doors

Leaving cuts from the broken pieces, deep enough

to cease and desist

but she didn’t

because the strangers she housed had leased long to leave long lines of promises that made up for lost time in her eyes

You could say she was blind

but it was the fear of starting over

that confined her to what she called home

A threat to her soul but she yielded to her body alone

She knew it was a temple, a home for her bridegroom

but she felt like a ticking-time bomb

and an explosion of truth would drive him in the other direction

put a strain on his affection

forgetting his love comes with no conditions

the idea of an unconditional love was foreign

all she knew was mourning in the midnight hour and morning

tending to the wounds of each glass door she ran into

sometimes she tried prayer but only tears came

and every time she was close to drowning

awaiting her saviour but getting nothing

so she retreated back to the what she called home:

the next glass door with the hopes that she wouldn’t crash, mourn and drown

but that she would find peace

if only she knew that peace was closer to Home

that peace was within.