I was broken when you found me.
My wings were tattered and torn-
Feathers scattered everywhere.
Bits and pieces hung off of me like brown leaves clinging to scraggly, dying limbs.
You pointed it out: you showed me the path that led to the healing place.
Others had tried to show me, but your voice was clearer.
Piece by piece, the healing began.
Many days, I wish it hadn’t.
It would be easier to just sit on the side of the road, tattered wings: feathers plucked clean.
But I am not a coward.
I am not slave to generations of broken wings and dying leaves.
My autumnal leaves fall to make room for the growth of spring.
It ends here and now with me.
Piece by piece, the healing continues.
Truth digs deeper and more painfully with every layer of rotting flesh that it peels back.
Slowly but surely, truth reveals the new growth underneath decades of destruction.
My path will not be dictated by the lurking evil that had hold for so long to this tree.
Today I lay claim to the truth that the curse is broken and I am made whole.
It is broken here.
It is broken now.
I may stumble back, but I will not fall.
I may begin to buckle at the weight of the sorrow or the shame or the guilt, but I will throw it off.
I will cast the doubt and the fear out for the vultures rather than be overwhelmed by their intoxicating presence.
I was broken when you found me and I am still broken now.
But brokenness shall not win.
Charissa Clark Howe
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