Love, to my brothers

Dear Brothers,

I look forward to heaven (I pray you are there) when I can tell you plain how I think of you, and you won't misunderstand or mistake what I say, when you won't misunderstand my care as a desire for you in any way other than as a warrior alongside as we storm the keep of darkness with the most beautiful of Light.

When it is all over and the beginning has begun, I will tell you, plain, your vulnerability was your strength, and we, your sisters, knew it.

We knew your brokenness and loved you. We loved you in a manner far too strong for Earthly languages. Our love was broken, yes, but we loved you.

Your words, brother, I always soul-smiled at your words. Your poetry, your prose, and the way you carried strong songs into sanctuaries and slums alike. You gave strength through your words, and that was beautiful to me.

In this life, if I tell you of your beauty, you will be suspicious, probably weirded-out. But there, when I tell you, you will know. When I say that you are beautiful, it is because I see in you the image of the King. You bear the image of the King.

I cannot tell you now, I'm not bold enough yet. But then, at the end and the glorious beginning, I will tell you, and you will understand.

love,
your sister,
me