I carried so much hurt
a world of injury, so much so that
often I couldn’t breathe.
my chest ached of it. I couldn’t
hear the spirit, blowing windy about me.
wouldn’t heal, my open sores were evident to all.
I had no space left inside
for the mystical, Holy
One to speak.
Making space for God sounds so suspect
I was thinking
if God is there, why won’t he just talk
Then I let go. I let my fear fly free.
Then the glorious, lavish days
days I look forward to sitting, there. waiting
setting aside the albatross.
Let it go, though
I had was strong,
The scars ran deep
the pain furrowed my brow and at my core
there was only sorrow.
Now, I touch the Unknown
I am uncluttered, exposed
open for God to speak.