Lost cause. Outcast. Something that’s a someone inside, if they’d only look.
Shuffled and moved, not knowing where her head would land each night.
Will the loud music attract the cops again?
7, 8, 9 years old and she can hear God. He’s always right there but she can’t get a hold of Him.
Things lost. Precious baby dolls, favorite toys only exist in the memory now.
Not knowing but only one way; she chooses the same vices. Monkey see monkey do.
This is no longer a game, as grief, loss and regret take hold.
An expert on addiction is what she becomes as she numbs the pain away.
Seeing day by day that the choice is inside. Hope is growing but is an enemy of hers.
The power to choose lies right in the heart and mind, but the doubt stays in the front seat driving away control.
Until she falls off the ladder, lets go of the bottom rung and lands on the rocky bottom.
There’s a light. A driving, penetrating Light that fills the pit to the very bottom.
God is still there after all these years. She holds her hand up over her head as the unchanging Hand scoops her up and lifts her out.