Darkness was not enough,
not even one I could
touch, a darkness
I could feel,
like a curtain
of silk, light
and smooth
and flowing
like liquid night.
It covered my eyes
and weighed upon me
so I could not move
or change.
Darkness was not enough
to soften my petrified
heart. It drifted, with infinite
slowness
and a glimmer
of God,
And settled there,
between stutterstep beats,
heavier than silence
or time,
Until my heart,
heavy as Darkness
cracked, a lattice work of
Thin lines, though it did
not Break.
Darkness was not enough
to soften my heart,
or free me from the
bondage of my
self. But light shone
through those cracks
Rivers of color
and heat, bathing me
in holiness
and grace.
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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