She walks through the valley of the shadow of death
But she is unafraid
She has walked this road before
She has been scarred, beaten, bruised, and broken
She has been bought and sold
She has been rented to weary travelers and been a resting place for two days, no more.
She has been an inviting house to people who were not looking to make her a home
She is a new book sitting atop a clean shelf, waiting for someone who wants to know her story.
But they crease her pages, leaving new chapters
So yeah, she walks through the valley of the shadow of death
And she is unafraid
Because waiting at the other side?
A warm smile, kind eyes, and a hug.
Waiting, for her.