This was once my home. The lean-to for the tempest. The cross it welcomed the pain. The silence invited the joy. And the spirit could be heard.
It certainly is the passing of time. But maybe also it… Or me… Or both. For, here now, I am broken. I mourn.
“Sanctuary!” I cried, “Sanctuary!” But now, now I simply cry. For what was once a den of refuge has since become a den of thieves.