:Testament:

This very ground tells a story...

One of fire and pain.

Of ravaging, searing, complete brokenness.

Of battles--a war--of life thought to be lost.

One of bruises and scars, charred sentinels of the fallen.

Ten years out, and the soil still feels ashy beneath my bare toes--new growth sprouting where flames once burned.

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This heart tells a story, also.

One of fire and pain, loss and gain.

Of searing questions and broken dreams

Of battles--real and imagined, fought inside of me.

One of bruises and scars, a testament to the fight I always seem to think I need to put up...

...before realizing sometimes it's better just to let go.

Ten years out...and there are shoots of something, but I can't tell what. Hopes for anything, anything, but...

Some days this heart feels ashy beneath your touch. Burned out, tired, stripped of what was.

If that's the answer to growth, ouch. 

If that's the path to renewal, *gasp*.

If that's the way forward, how?

It's so hard to be anyone when you aren't quite sure you remember who 'you' is.

Then again, maybe 'me' is the problem; it should be 'You'.

Ouch. *Gasp*. How?