The First Betrayal

You keep telling Me

the story of what they did.

As if I were not there

the moment you left yourself

to be loved.

Beloved, that was the first betrayal.

Long before bodies wandered,

you learned to disappear

so no one would turn away.

Do you think I missed that?

I watched you trade your breath

for safety,

your truth

for belonging.

And when the walls of the house cracked,

you blamed the storm.

But I am not interested

in who broke the vow.

I want to know

when you will stop

breaking from yourself

to survive.

Grief is not your punishment.

It is My hand on your back saying,

“Come home now.

You don’t have to leave to be loved.”

This is My favorite moment.

When the heart drops its armor

and says,

“I can’t do this without You.”

This is repair:

Not the fixing of what happened,

but the end of exile.

Repair begins

the moment you stop leaving

to belong.

Sit with Me

inside what is true.

Even this . . . all of you . . .

I can hold.