A stranger to her own body

Her compass was a boundary
Born of insecurity
A rough edge as she feared to dream or awaken
To the mystic inside her that
Forgot how to tell stories
How to dance those words
On the rooftops of wounds
Built so long ago
In the darkest places within her.
Her body was a temple
She no longer visited
A prayer she no longer whispered
A world of rejection and pain
In every crevice hiding between
Flesh and bone
Yearning to feel the one who
Had disowned her remembering
What it was like to come back home.
When will you believe
That all you hold sacred
Is safe
In your earthen vessel
Where lovers and mystics
Angels and storytellers
Magical creatures
The sun
The moon
And the stars
Wait patiently just to hold your hand?