My dreams are panes of glass,

Showing what could be

With one decision

One mistake

They fall and shatter

They lie around

Reflecting bits and pieces of what could be

To pick them up causes pain

It rips me to shreds

As the edges are jagged

Impossible to put back together

Though it hurts,

Though the blood flows

I hold on to them

I cry from the pain

I choose to destroy myself

I could choose to look into my hands,

And see the new panes that appeared

Those don’t hurt to hold onto

They are whole

Reflecting what can be if I choose to embrace it

I end up looking down though,

Back to the broken future

The future I wanted.

Disregarding what could be

I could choose to look up to heaven

I could choose to ask God for help.

I believe he can

But though the spirit is willing the flesh is weak

I would rather stay stuck

The pain is comforting in a way

It allows me to dream within my scope and no one else’s

I choose to stay clinging to the broken past

Then from the shards I hear a voice whisper my name

It says “Daughter it doesn’t have to be this way”

“I am crazy,” I say trying to go back to the longing but can’t

Ruminating on the voice

“Daughter, do I not leave the 99 to find you?”

“Go away!” I call trying to return to my painful comfort

I can’t go back

So I sit waiting for the voice to return.

“Daughter you are beloved. Follow me for freedom.”

“I’m scared.” I cry.

Sobs echoing over the glass.

“What happens if I let go?”

I look over the fragmented images, feeling the slicing into my soul

“Freedom.” Responds the soft voice.

To let go feels like I would be letting go of all of me.

I’d be stepping into the unknown, but maybe it’s better. Maybe I can heal.

“But you know it here,” hisses another voice.

“How do you know he isn’t lying?”

A few more panes fall from my hands and I try to grab them as they tumble in slow motion

I pick them up and these hurt the most

It is almost like they cut into my very essence

“See how he hurts you,” the voice nearly growls.

I begin to doubt the goodness of the soft loving voice.

“How could someone who loves you treat you this way?”

“A second of hesitation and things fall apart.”

The words cause me to retreat more into my brokenness

I no longer wish to stand

To be cut as I rise

“Daughter, he lies. Flee him, come to me.” The soft warm voice calls.

“Think of all the lies you were told though, young one. Think of all the masks you uncovered. How do you know he is not pretending too? What if his plan is to hurt you worse than you already are?”

“Daughter I have plans for you. Plans to grow you, to prosper you. Plans to give you hope. A future, a life beyond anything you can see here in your fragmented reality.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I sit thinking. I want to choose the comfortable pain, but want something new.

I want freedom.

“Stop,” I scream at the hissing voice

“ I choose you Father!” I stand looking to heaven.

The sky opens and a voice calls down “You are more than loved than you will ever know. Come to me child and I will give you rest.”

A ladder appears and I climb it.

On the way up I realize how big my mess is.

It cuts me with every step, but the Voice encourages me.

I keep climbing and at the top I realize how far I have come.

There are new dreams, but they aren’t fragile panes of glass, they are written in heaven.

I have overcome.

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