Hand in hand
I hesitate at the door
Old remnants of fear

Clearly written
On the fine lines
Worn into my face

But he whispers
So softly
His beautiful voice
Echoing through my heart

“my daughter
Trust in your choice
To love me

I stand here
Right by
Your very side”

But as I open
The veritable door
Where faith resides

The faithful
Turn away
Because they don’t
See who holds my hand

All they see is me
And Instead
of welcoming arms

They miss
This new sister
And wonder just
who am I?

To leave the door open
When I walked in
All alone
Or with one of their own

Congregation
They believed was
Subject to scrutiny

Public mutiny
Or some sort
of unloving disregard

And fat teardrops
Fall and mingle
at the feet
Of Jesus

Where he hasn’t
Once
Let go of my hand

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