Broken Alabaster

Here it is: my real, uncovered, raw alabaster. 

It’s broken- imperfect to say the very least. 

It’s not even costly. 

The jar is cracked. 

The oil is old. 

Holding it out to you, I almost brace myself for your rejection. 

It’s not enough, and I know that. 

Looking at the ground, I wait. 

The silence is    d e a f e n i n g

You speak my name. 

I look up at you. 

I expect to see angry eyes. 

Instead I’m met with a 

Kind, gentle, welcoming gaze. 

I’m so surprised I nearly gasp. 

I fall at your feet, unable to contain my tears. 

But then you do something even more surprising. 

You meet me at the floor, and when we lock eyes, yours are tear-filled, too.

Then you speak, and your words are unbelievable:

“Welcome home, you don’t have to hide anymore”

My heart fills with so much adoration. I weep and weep. 

You continue to sit with me. 

You’re weeping too. 

All that matters in this moment is that we’re together. I feel so safe here. 

Vulnerable, but so safe. 

You hold me and hold me, for what feels like forever. 

Then you look at me and say:

“See, this is all I ever desired for you. I love you, my daughter”