The Key.

Dear Emmia and Kirk,
 

bruised past, confused beginning

battles abroad and battles inside

How do I cope?

Anger, hate, shut people out.

Stay inside, do not shout.

In the corner of my mind,

locked in chains, no fight left.

waiting for anyone to bring me from

the agonizing past inside my head.

The key

A small little whisper. . . you are you are . . .

I am what?

The chains chatter angrily on the cold cement

as I turn to Him.

He beckons and I reach.

"Stop!" the chains say as I'm jerked back by their length.

I struggle, fight, and scream as frustration tears my mouth.

I lie here in the middle of my prison

the chains still here

my wrists and ankles throbbing in rhythm

to my painted out cry

"why, why, why?"

Light slowly penetrates my once lonely prison.

He comes to me and gets me on my knees

He holds my clinched fists and asks me to "let go."

I shake my head and whimper an I can't

He lifts my chin to look at his face.

His eyes know my pain, the agony I'm in.

"You are. . . ." he replies

I am what? 

"It's up to you" He says as He looks down at my hands

I follow His gaze as my fists slowly unfold

My cheeks are wet as He lifts up the key that's there.

"You always had it." 

"You are always free."

Returning the key to my palm, He raises and says

"Come when you are ready."

as he departs. . . waiting.

The is key is in my hand 

the chains squeal as I turn the lock.

A soft click and loud complaints as the links hit the floor.

I run from that place

I run to find Him.

Love, Ryn.