i am crumbling in
on myself
from every side
i feel heat
and hear whispers
and smell the soil of my grave
and taste floating ashes
and i see a beast,
foaming and drooling,
hairy palms and jagged nails,
parched lips and cracking flesh,
lonely eyes,
and a familiar howl.
i am running from myself.
i am running
from myself.

i was told
that my story has already
been written,
that the beast i hear
calling my name
is simply nostalgic,
desperate
to return to my fractured exposition
because where i am walking,
where the Light dwells,
he may not follow.

i felt a strange nudge
from the Spirit that inhabits me.
i assumed my redemption would be more complex.
the very concept of it frightens me
‘cause i’ve been waiting
for the right time
to let these tears fall,
but the Spirit has been waiting
since before time to
bust through the ceiling
of this collapsing self,
not to pull me up--
but to bring the Light down. 
and let it flood
everything.

i felt a strange nudge
to move closer to the water,
to drop my garments
and walk.

i protested.

i’ll fall in
and if i fall,
i’ll sink,
and drown.

the Spirit mocked me:

then stop.

stop what?

wearing your shackles
like an accessory.

it’s all i know.

it is all you ever will
unless you give me the weight
and walk.

i can’t swim.

and you never will
unless you walk.

but you know how sidetracked i get,
you know i’ll misstep, you know i’ll fall

how else would you learn to rise

i’ll drown

no you’ll sink. drowning is a choice.

i don’t understand.

I Am waiting to catch you
I Am the rock at the bottom
I Am the way maker in the dark
I Am the designer of every moving thing in the deep
you need not understand my depth,
and width, and length, and height,
nor the depths that I have gone to
hold you,
to reclaim what has always been mine,
for you to look into the water,
see my reflection,

and walk.

i believe you, i’m trying, but--

your “buts” speak louder
than your belief.
I know you think
what you see
is a greater depiction of reality
than my word.
why, then, do you call me God, if you have another?
or maybe you thought I stuttered.

will you trust me?

Cover Photo by Tevin Trinh on Unsplash