He kisses the tips of my fingers,
my hands so fragile in his.
Tenderly he cradles my being,
I wish I could hold him closer than we are.
He sees me.
the scars,
the fear,
the wounds,
the mess of who I have become.
Yet he sweeps me up tenderly,
and washes me free of the agony
--for just a moment--
when we share time.
He dresses me not just in the finest silks
of tenderness,
or the prettiest of jewels,
that adorne my soul,
but in the armor of his strength.
He dresses me in the gift of his love,
his presence,
his healing words.
He aids in the recovery of my wounds,
he frees me of my mindless ravings,
He silences my worry.
All of it just falls away,
as his eyes settle upon mine
and I know,
I feel what home is.
