I was told I was born to be brutal
painstaking steps into fists
locked out of my home
for being too soft
too mushy
too impractical with the harvest
too messy with my chores
too loving to the things that didn't love me
See I thought if I could love something
that hated me
I could somehow grasp onto a deeper fountain
I could somehow hold in a larger well
where the water tastes different
because maybe it doesn't just satisfy
it also sparks a longing
for that unknown space under my bed
where I keep all the secrets
I'm too scared to utter
because what if no one ever tells me an answer
what if when the end comes
all I have
is the mystery in those questions
even though
I climbed every hill
I fought every battle
and I surrendered when you told me to.
What does victory mean when half
of my body is burned
past the point of recognition
what happens after the ceremony when
I go home and look in the mirror
and I don't recognize the person staring back at me
So now
I pace worn holes into the carpet
checking the clock every ten seconds
hoping
when I check again
the world will have rotated fast enough for
time
to catch up to my longing
and then
while the skin on my body burned
I could reach out
and find something holding me
that reminded me exactly how
to inhale and exhale
and then
fall
into something I never needed to understand to possess
See my God has made home in my hunger
landscape and sky and
rough uneven patches
need no work of my hands
My God in his glory
levels all in due time.
Footnote:
To He who leaves
open spaces to breathe
maintaining oxygen and love
to He who became the mountain
that overcame the mountain
you have loved me for a thousand years
more than that even,
I will find you again.