brooke🌿

I disappeared from tumblr for a very long time, and I’d like to make it back. Truthfully, I don’t know just how committed I am to that. But, while I’ve been gone, I underwent electroconvulsive therapy. Today is the first time since well before the treatments that I’ve been able to write again - that I sort of feel like me again. So, please, enjoy this poem. 

My intentions are strung together with winded golden wire - 

Beautiful and glistening - strong enough to withstand fire. 

They wrap around my bones, through my chest, climb my spine. 

Entangled with my failures, they remind me:

I’m a shrine. 

I’m a holy place where bad things happened. 

I’m a mausoleum of the oldest fashion. 

I’m a sanctuary with a rugged start, 

I’m a hallowed place where you feel your own heart. 

Sometimes I forget and tend to go blind 

when I feel hollow so much of the time. 

I am not just an empty tomb; I am a shrine. 

Yes, there are ghosts; they stay and they roam. 

They linger here because I’ve been afraid to let them go. 

A burnt offering smells sweet, but it still requires a flame. 

There is not one single church that hasn’t housed some pain. 

My body is a temple; so is my mind. 

I’ve searched for You high and low, but I’ll leave no stone unturned. I’ll walk straight into the furnace knowing I’ll come out unburned. And though I know You never change and Your spirit is one and the same, I have to confess that I wouldn’t mind knowing: what’s Your name? Do you prefer to be called Jehovah or would You rather go by God? Would You answer to “hey, you” if I just have Your love in my heart? Sometimes when I find the quiet or when the quiet finds me, I take the moment to talk to You, but I often freeze. Gratitude with no end is as far as I get confidently, but then I start to wonder if I should be offering You an apology. My only intentions are to be more like You. Are You disappointed if I do that from a pew? Does Your grace only permeate throughout the Kingdom Hall? Am I making progress or are You appalled? The songs on my playlist lift You up in praise. Your mercy intensified by stained glass ricochets. Trapped in a void not that long ago, I couldn’t feel You near; I just felt so alone. Today, I can feel Your arms wrapped around my chest, engulfed in a forgiveness I didn’t think I’d get. Thankful, yes, but also a bit puzzled. They said if I left, I’d only find trouble. But I think You’re closer than ever before. My Bible’s been resurrected from the dusty drawer. I’m trusting in You; how can that be wrong? Whatever Your name, it’s with You I belong. I can’t bring myself to believe that it’s a crime to relearn the hymns a little louder this time.