Phnom Penh, Cambodia, July 2014
To know your worth,
Sarah,
would blind you,
dazzle you,
send you flying.
Send you loop the loop.
Send you hurtling
through space and time.
To really know your worth
would floor you,
cardiac arrest you,
launch you to heaven
and back.
Consume you with liquid light.
Your worth, Sarah,
My Sarah,
wise Sarah,
wild Sarah,
brave, brave Sarah,
your worth is not wasted,
not bitter tasting,
not lacking,
not lost.
Not waiting to be revealed.
not sealed
and hidden away.
Not squashed
or squandered
or laid waste.
Your worth, Sarah,
is a roar that ricochets,
a riot in My heart
that will not stop,
that will not be still,
that will not be contained.
Your worth, Sarah,
rips Me wide open,
renders me undone,
weak with just the thought of you.
Your worth, Sarah,
has wrung me out of words,
has wrestled out the fight in Me,
has left me spent.
I’m sorry. Sarah,
for all the worth-beaters,
the blame-seekers,
the shame-teachers.
The let downs,
the lies,
the spit in your eyes.
The meanness
masked as mercy,
the sting
of mocking smiles.
Sarah, my love,
My cherished one,
My wanted,
My favoured child,
My rose.
Your worth astounds Me
and is beyond compare.
Words will never touch it,
grasp it,
lay hold of it.
Words will never do enough
for what I see in you
and who you are to Me.
My Sarah, my rose.