Write your broken, she whispered.
And I did.
I wrote it everywhere.

As I walked, as I spoke, as I slept, as I talked.
That was where broken lived.
I wrote it in words. They tore up the page.
I wrote it with tears as they streamed down my face.
I wrote it with spears; I wrote it with Grace.
I wrote it with love as I found deeper faith.
I opened my heart to hurts long past.
I found a wild place filled with broken glass.  
I let the pain flow. I let the hurt go. 

Write your broken, she said again.
And I did.
I wrote it everywhere.  

I wrote it with passion. I wrote it with flair.
I wrote it quietly as I sat down in prayer.
I wrote it with friends as I remembered how to laugh.
Broken became a friend too as time passed.
We began to walk together; a mismatched pair.
One head in the clouds; one bowed down in despair.
Though we lived in two very different worlds; we knew we were both needed in the story to be told.
So we wrote and we worked and we slept and we cried. And our pain began to flow in a beautiful tide; an ocean that ebbed and flowed with the passion in our eyes.
No more peaceful a space had we ever been.
This broken story became a place to begin.
And in this new tender state. We began to walk forward together and create.
To build a new life filled with every human thing; wondering how we could ever have wanted to experience only a fraction of these things.   

Write your broken, she whispered again.
And I did.
I wrote it everywhere.

I wrote the story of a girl who knows it is time.
Time to play, time to love, time to cry. Time to shine.
Time to write this new story with all of her soul.
Time to write broken into a miracle of a beautiful new world. 

Write your broken, she laughed.
And I did.
I wrote it everywhere.

Broken open and alive.