Coming Home

A heavy knock striking the door,

Shakes the room with stone walls.

 

Truth stands to come,

Is it being lost, or going home?

 

What am I really afraid of?

Death, or what’s going to come of?

 

It is both death and being called home.

God… I want to give You a smile, not dark foam.

🌷(6)

◄ Her Flower

Silent Voice ►

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