I am not a fan of change.
But for that matter,
I am not a fan of clinging
as if to save my
Soul,
or shield my
Heart
From something -
anything,
everything -
Some thing,
that has wrapped itself around me,
Or that perhaps
I may have agreed
(In some way)
To cling
to that thing,
And so not
Change.
I am not a fan of change.
But oh!
I am so tired of
clinging.
My fingers are cramped
and my knuckles
White.
I haven't moved in so very long.
The view from here
is old,
And frayed
around the edges.
I am not a fan of clinging.
And so I think,
maybe -
Just maybe,
If I let go,
Not with a whoosh,
But a whisper,
A breath
of a prayer,
If I let go
Softly,
I can rest,
Just a bit,
And let the change
that I am not a fan of,
That will happen anyway
Maybe I can just
Let the change in.
And in the letting,
In the release,
In that moment,
So be changed.
(c) Stacey Zisook Robinson
2014
I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. I n the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy. If nothing else, I've learned to make a mean cup of coffee.
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