There are moments when the night gets longer than it should,
and the road under my feet feels like it’s pulling away.

I think of all the places I’ve wandered,
the heartbreak, the ache of silent prayers,
and yet, I’m still standing.
Still breathing.
Still reaching.

And somewhere in the quiet,
I feel that gentle pull.
Not a shove.
Not a demand.
But an invitation.

Take my hand and lead me home.
Home isn’t a building or a memory we can’t return to.
Home is the place where the soul exhales.

Home is where tears are safe
and silence doesn’t judge.
It’s where the wounded parts of us
finally stop flinching.
Where we remember
we were never meant to walk alone.

There’s a peace out there,
waiting just beyond the noise,
just beyond the doubt,
just beyond the weight we carry.

So for whoever is tired,
whoever is wandering,
whoever whispers in the dark,
“Will I ever feel whole again?”

Take a breath.
Take a step.
And if you’re too weary to take another one,
hold your hand out.
Someone will find it,
someone who knows the way.

Take my hand and lead me home.
Not back to what used to hurt,
but forward to what heals.
Forward to hope.
Forward to peace.
Forward to the place where love is stronger than fear.
Forward to home~

Published by Jeff

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