Collapsed—finally. Folded.
All the times I've threatened to leave
I'm still learning to wear my freedom.
Tentative is the casting down
of the cloak that swallowed me.
Trepidation is wiping the tears
of shame, of sorrow, of solitude
"We love you, you can't do it."
"It's in the act, not the feelings."
"Don't dwell on the temptation."
I'm told there will be suffering,
I'm told nothing compares,
I'm told I am not owed easiness,
yet I am told God is kind.
If this is kindness, I'll take cruelty.
as long as I get to take my heart,
not to earn the approval of a god
In that system, I am supposed to
be grateful when the pain is lifted,
sing praises that the sadness is gone,
place trust in the one who
watches as I squirm and writhe and hope
He is supposed to be enough?
who frees himself of guilt
because my cries weren't loud enough,
long enough, exultant enough?
Because my cries were cries at all?
This is the being who wants good things for me?
This is the being who want my unwavering devotion,
the one who set his servants out
that it could still be called love.
And now I stand facing a precipice
I don't know how to cross.
Now I stand, having lost so much of myself,
that I no longer know who to be.
They say we gravitate towards
but what do you do when all you know
How do you learn what it means
to let the truth flow through you?
How do you learn authenticity over
that earns you a new home?
It is said, also, that the life I want
is just a few brave decisions away.
I may not know much about this new life,
but I know it is time to be courageous.
