There is now therefore, no condemnation...

One stare was all it took.

Yet another uncomprehending look and the idea dropped away

To give place to memories--all I saw were things I could not say.

A star glitters behind a storm

Alone with its thoughts.

This too familiar scene in which I always push ahead

Saying that they’ll understand, at last, if I just try again.

But not now.

Clouds move fast, but grey stretches far across the sky.

The old infected discontent is only faintly seen but felt

At such a light, so slight and gentle touch.

The dam is burst and through it swirls the muddy stale lies and frustration.

The star gently sparkles behind the moving branches.

There was a girl at whom I glowered, threatened, watched her as she cowered.

Discouragement muttered bitter, low, calling forth dancing,

Unwholesome names shrouded in black to grin at their fallen foe.

The wind shrieks. The twinkle will be lost.

I opened my mouth to speak while into the corner she shrank.

The lash of my whip she knew and shielded herself from my blows.

No pity stays my ruthless heart so hard—“Inadequate. Useless. Incapable girl!”

The star blinks sadly behind the tangled thorny clouds.

It will never be seen.

The clouds are too dark, the night is too fast.

The storm is at its healthiest illness.

Light.

I pause with my arm upraised to strike, someone fighting for my mind.

I try to ignore a relentless voice, but pain at last makes me pause.

A voice from a story.

Don’t touch my girl.

A girl drops the whip and watches it writhe, twisting words and truths.

Don’t say that about my girl, The Voice goes on,

She is beautiful.

I fashioned her long ago and form her spirit now.

She’s come so far and here you are

Disgracing, ashaming that which is Mine.

Don’t say that about my girl.

From the corner where my own words have left me, hurt and angry, I see

A star.

Through the window it shines.

Just a star, revealed and waiting.

“Let Truth shine through,” it whispers.

Falling stars through the pain of rebuke

Glitter and drop from my eyes.

The Voice speaks into the old, fresh wound,

Don’t say that about my girl, He says,

I have called you by name, you are Mine.

The star disappears behind the darkness. Its purpose here is served.

I have my own star to protect from the storms.

I have my own star to reveal.

“No more, father of lies,” I say aloud with brightening eyes,

“I am chosen. He has done it. Death has died.”