It’s only been a few days,
but I’m back for more.
The life of an addict.
My moments have become cracked glass,
but there is a hint of honey in my tears.
It’s been
a bittersweet epiphany:
I’m not cut out
to be the person
I’ve been being.
I’m a crash test dummy
careening into the wall
of nothing whatsoever.
For a moment
I was full and clear,
a moment without the traffic,
unfettered,
remembering
what he told me,
hugging it close to my chest,
wanting to tell complete strangers about it,
holding it up to the sky
from time to time
like the negative image
of the moment when
everything had changed for me.
But then I failed
to meet the deadline
and they were disappointed.
The sole of my
right shoe split open,
and the guest speaker
told me how she
was fighting every day
to save the rest of us
from our own destruction,
which seemed staggeringly
meaningful,
and the teacher
encouraged me to take
a more effective stance
in my child’s future,
and they forgot
to put the dressing
on the side,
and I was spoken to again
about my grasp
on the situation.
Or lack thereof.
Wouldn’t I have thought
someone in my position
would have realized
what was happening?
And so here I am.
Trembling a tad.
Flowing.
Holy.
Ready.
I need this.
The thing is:
I’ll never live up to myself.
That type of suffering
will set you free.
Jesus meets my gaze,
holds a finger to his lips
to seal this pact of silence,
then decides to wash my hair.
Afterwards we sit
at the little table
by the back porch
and I empty my pockets
of the crumpled scraps of paper.
He helps me spread them flat
on the table.
good
accepting
reliable
happy
responsible
inspired
loving
kind
helpful
trustworthy
vulnerable
deserving
We examine them together.
I’m getting anxious.
This is the hard part.
Where I give one up.
One at least.
He’d take them all if I let him,
but the thought alone is crushing.
It’s all I have left… these aspirations.
The life of an addict.
He wants me to run on empty.
He wants my face to be a mystery.
So lizards will stop chewing
when I stumble past,
and wonder,
Where’d that come from?
He does…
He.
He?
This.
This heart of mine
that understands me perfectly
and keeps trying to let me in on the secret.
