It’s been a little while, friends. Life has been a little hard, a little painful of late.
So this is where I’m at today. I wanted to be honest with you and me and God. It’s okay to be in pain. It means something is changing. I’m trusting that God is the author of that change.
I think God gave us poetry so our thoughts wouldn’t have to feel so lonely. A truth outstretched, an offering. A prayer.
Enough crying for today
I feel… heavy. Like, spirit-heavy. Dunked-in-a-pool-of-water
heavy.
Heavy like a peat bog. Like the suction of quicksand.
Like I am the quicksand,
not drowning in it.
Like my limbs are eroding, collecting
at the bottom of an hourglass. Changing shape.
Am I enough to hold me together
is my essence still essence
or where did it go. Is it hiding
like a reluctant monster behind a closet door
am I a monster
spike-toothed and sad
Going through something.
That’s the phrase. It sounds like action,
it feels like
stuck-ness.
Air isn’t something, at least not enough
to be heavy. Air makes room. Air shapes to fit you,
not you to fit it. Something, though
is something.
The some implies stuffing.
Going through it is heavy like breathing
through a marshmallow
going through means the something
goes through you too.
and you feel heavy like atoms
like gravity in a pinprick
like the question of who you are–
but at least
you know
going through something
will get you some
where
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