Collecting Seeds of Faith

The Light that Keeps Illuminating our Way

Learning how to love our wounded selves

Reading the Daily Prayer: Wind is a new habit I’m trying to form. So far, its happened every morning–well, it’s been happening most mornings and has been going on for about a month–but that is a good record for me!

That idea of a “good record for me” is the kind of shame message I think God has been working my whole life to rewrite. I was diagnosed with ADD when I was ten or so. Ever since then, as if along with the diagnosis, classroom learning has come difficult. Time management: elusive; and starting tasks can sometimes feel impossible.

“What about task organization? Do you feel like you lose track of what your doing or what to do next? Sometimes, most of the time, all of the time?” — asked Dr Katz.

This week I finally saw a psychiatrist. After (literally, over) a year of uncovering the evil that plagues the well-meaning intentions of insurance companies working to provide care for those seeking mental healthcare. The process has been riddled with dead-ends. Providers who are listed as available were retired “but would try to make time to see me.” Hasan Minhaj even made an episode about it.

Like Jesus, our Great Physician, I believe Aetna is actually trying to help people who are not well, I do believe that. And like Capitalism, Communism, and Socialism (hell, even Anarchism) they represent an ideal more than actually present a way of salvation for anybody. All of these systems (yes, even the governments) are aiming at something helpful, even good, but glaringly miss the mark. That much is obvious.

Sometimes, we don’t know how to respond

What can we do then? When the systems set up by well-meaning individuals to help us, fail us, all too often having an effect contrary to their intention. Many of the systems we interact with regularly, like healthcare, education, justice, etc… provide for some and oppress others. Truthfully, not even fully providing for those they favor.

James Cone said that one outside the oppressed group cannot judge the response of said group to their oppressor and I agree with him. Some choose to act out violently against their oppressor. I can’t blame them. Others withdraw, accepting their limitations while not doing the hard work required for growth. Again, we can’t blame them. The many ways a person might respond to oppression are all complicated. It isn’t worth assigning value to the response before assessing what preceded it.

As a white dude I have scarcely felt oppressed. Before now.

I have been seeking help for my mental health for over a year. After encountering so many dead ends I am beginning to see that the healthcare system which claims to be for me actually appears to be against me and I am still figuring out how to respond.

The thing is, I don’t have the privilege of removing myself from the situation, analyzing my own abstraction, weighing the pro’s and con’s of different responses, and acting with a thought-through informed decision. We all have to respond to what’s right in front of us, all of the time, and the circumstances are perpetually varied.

It’s a gift for those who have the space and capacity for reflection–and a worthy endeavor to pursue for those who want it. For most (all?) of us, though, we need help (and grace) to walk through adversity and come out the other side more whole than where we started.

We need a community around us

For example, in November of 2019 I felt all the feelings that Pastor Gwen White talked about in her talk titled “Waiting for Deliverance through Terror.” She defined “terror” as feeling alone and overwhelmed. To be honest, and for many reasons, I’ve felt terror for much of the fall of last year. In November, that reached its peak.

I began to engage behaviors which were ultimately aimed at saving myself. The temptation to withdraw grew stronger and around my faith, a fog grew thicker.

This is how I know that faith is more than intellectual assent. I still believed all of the same things but none of those beliefs were changing my experience. What was I to do? This feeling of desperation often leads people to do things they wouldn’t normally. And I was feeling desperate.

Over the last three years Raissa and I have been growing deeper and deeper with Circle of Hope, our faith community in Philadelphia. I have rhythms built into my week where I spent time with brothers and sisters in Christ. It was in these times where I brought what I was actually going through and shared openly with those whom I had built a trust system. In that process, what felt so dark to me came into the light.

In sharing what was used to speak shame into my life I could feel the love I didn’t have for myself. When I felt un-huggable, Raleigh gave me a hug. When I felt un-lovable, Corinne spent extra time with me at breakfast. And when I couldn’t tell the truth from a trick, Julie didn’t mince words.

When my faith was weak I could lean on the faith of my community and know some peace.

I believe that we all go through seasons of darkness, it seems, in cycles. When those seasons come, sometimes as unexpected as a summer storm, it’s good to already be rooted in a community who will love us through them. Those who will be the light when all else seems dark.

We need more than that, though.

Not everybody has a community like this, or community at all. Studies have been pointing to this for years. Our society is becoming increasingly more isolated and we’re apparently feeling more lonely. We’ve been seeing dramatic increases in anxiety and public institutions are transforming to meet a more individualized people, take the arrival of the “gig economy,” for example.

Just over a year ago, The Atlantic hosted a conference called “The Loneliness Epidemic” to address this societal trend.

At one level, community would look like the solution to this problem. But, I don’t think that goes far enough.

The reality is, even after we feel empathized with and “seen,” important experiences in their own right, we still live with that darkness. We still go to our beds at night with whatever problems we woke up with.

Our community is a light to them, yes, but it is not The Light. Our community stokes our hope in hope but it is not Hope itself. It is not the end, only a means. What we really need is Hope itself. What we really need is The Light to come into our lives and our world.

Jesus Christ is the Light of the world, and he alone gives light to our darkness. All else act as postcards, which are delivered from God calling us towards Her. Along with the same spirit in which James writes,

All generous giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or the slightest hint of change.
James 1:17

These gifts are like postcards from God. Even the Christian community itself can be like a love letter; addressed to you and signed by Jesus. An invitation to come and know the lover of your soul. The Apostle Paul writes,

You yourselves are…a letter of Christ, delivered by us, written not with ink but by the Spirit of the living God…Now we have such confidence in God through Christ. Not that we are adequate in ourselves to consider anything as if it were coming from ourselves, but our adequacy is from God, who made us adequate to be servants of a new covenant not based on the letter but on the Spirit, for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.
2 Corinthians 1:24

“The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” sounds like a false dichotomy. And it is, if taken out of its context. Paul just called his audience “the letter of Christ” so what is he doing?

Well, I think he’s doing what I’ve tried to do in this post. We need the community but not for the sake of community. Our deeper need is that of Christ, from whom the community is given to us. Paul says that if we stop at the community that will lead to a dead end, and I don’t disagree.

If I treated a letter from my mother, for example, as my mother herself I would be missing out on the richness of relationship; all the nuance and complexity which comes with relating to another person. If our source of faith, hope, and love is only paper thin it would be like living a 2 dimensional life. Paul is offering the good news that life has more depth than that!

Learning how to love our wounded selves

There shouldn’t be a dichotomy here. We need the community and we need Jesus. It is not the same as saying one is as good as the other. It’s more like saying it’s a means to the end.

Jesus is wanting to connect with us and he says as much when he tells his disciples how to evangelize:

Everyone will know by this that you are my disciples–if you have love for one another.
John 13:35

This kind of community is not easy–that’s as plain as looking at any friendship which has stood the test of time. Thankfully, God has written us letters, millions of them to help love us deeper into a whole life of healing and growth. Most importantly, She has sent Her Son, Jesus, to illuminate our ways.

May we be lights in our world as we follow The Light, the lover of our souls.

I’m glad Jesus didn’t say, “let’s wait and see if it’s genuine” to me.

Things like wearing a MAGA hat and saying “slavery sounds like a choice” are apparently unforgivable. It appears that no matter what happens with Kanye, critics will be first to point to these sins and others because, well, frankly there are plenty to choose from. Kanye has been the laughing stock of superstardom ever since his outburst at the MTV awards with Taylor Swift and has deservedly (and not) received criticism for his manic episodes. And I expect as much even from the church.

The church is a place where we are and cultivate a beloved community. When Kanye says something like “slavery sounds like a choice” (watch his apology for that here) the church in particular has an opportunity to distinguish itself and reject such obvious evil. The racist myth that enslaved Africans were passive or even cooperative in their enslavement is at best false and at worst traumatic. And simply the heft of Kanye’s words, being Kanye West, are enough to open up that space for everybody to talk about it.

There is a perspective on this which is particular sinful against the black community here that I don’t feel I have authority to speak on it, so I won’t. I want to instead focus on that which is so personally offensive to me: “let’s wait and see.” But I’ll say more about that later. I have been tracking with Kanye’s life ever since 2004 with the release of The College Dropout, one of the greatest albums of all time, and feel like I have much more compassion for him than almost everybody I’ve spoken to. I’m not bragging, really. I actually find it strange. His mom dying is an underappreciated moment in affecting Kanye West’s life and mental health. Donda West died on 11/10/07. 808’s and Heartbreak was released almost exactly a year after (11/24/08). I remember when this happened actually, but I didn’t connect the two. I remember riding the high of the Higher Education Triology (The College Dropout, Late Registration, Graduation) and was met with 808’s after. Like many people, I was mistakenly unimpressed. Listening 11 years later I’ve found appreciation for the deeply emotional album. Pitchfork writes in 2008:

This year, however, was particularly rough: He and his fiancée broke up, and his mother, Donda West– who alone raised Kanye from the age of three– died from complications after cosmetic surgery. Kanye blamed himself for his mother’s death, singling out his own vanity, wealth, and pursuit of glamour and celebrity.
by Scott Plagenhoef, 808’s and Heartbreak

“Hey Mamma” released in 2005

Have you heard “Hey Mamma“? How about when he collapsed trying to perform it? The man is a man! He struggled and grieved the guilt of his mother’s death in front of a global audience. While you listen the second time through think about being responsible for that woman’s death. Hell, the real power of empathy is imagining being responsible for your own mother’s death. What would that belief do to you? Coupled with the reality of life as Kanye West. Say what you want about his vanity, Kanye is a genius and a global superstar. I don’t have that kind of power, but he did (does?). Here is the point we could judge him to be something which is also a racist trope against black men: avoid displaying emotion or we’ll think you’re crazy/dangerous. Even Pitchfork acknowledges:

the guy is aiming to be the biggest pop star in the world– he should feel bigger than us; too often, though, we instead ask for artists to be just like us or worse.
by Scott Plagenhoef, 808’s and Heartbreak

Kanye comes out with My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy in 2010, which is another master record. You can hear on this, too, how twisted Kanye is becoming. He has always fit into the Hip Hop character of self-promotion but he takes it to a place many are uncomfortable with, maybe because he does it so well?

Power, released on MBDTF in 2010

Pretty weird, right? He looks like a biblical king of Babylon or something. He looks like a god. This album dropped in 2010, in the same year that Kanye had his infamous interruption of Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech. Three years later (2013) Kanye comes out and answers the question he planted, “yes, I Am a God.” He actually has a song called “I Am a God” on the album called “YEEZUS.” Does it look like he headed in a certain direction? Downward? Yes, I think Kanye started spiraling ever since 07 when he purportedly funded his mother’s death. To be honest with you, as a millionaire pop superstar, I don’t blame Kanye for doing and saying what he did. I guess it’s necessary to say that I don’t condone a lot of his actions, either. I interpret everything post 2007 as Kanye grieving the loss of his mother (at his own hand) and saying “yes” to coping strategies which are not presented to the majority population. Listen to him praise God and talk about that here. It’s not an excuse for his actions, but dammit it offers us all an opportunity to empathize with him. He was right when he said “no one man should have all this power.”

But this kind of empathy doesn’t come easily for everybody, even after hearing so much of his story. I can understand that, too. Maybe I can empathize so easily because Jesus has forgiven me for so much. I can relate a lot with the woman whose being forgiven made room for her great love in Luke 7. I consider myself “the worst of sinners” like Paul from 1 Timothy. If you know my story, maybe you agree with me. I was near or at the bottom of myself when Jesus met me. And when he did I started praying for Kanye. I had this sense that his sin was haunting him, just like mine had to me and I knew Jesus wanted to save him, just like he saved me. I hadn’t even heard Kanye’s “Pinocchio” song to know this, too.

He said “I turn on the TV and see me and see nothin’.”

I have been praying for Kanye ever since I converted. And when I hear people say “let’s wait and see if this is genuine” I remember hearing people, who were blood relatives, say this to and about me. Listening to the album I hear a lot of myself early on in faith. Which is a lot the reason why I couldn’t be happier for him and I mean that. I am not entirely sure what the benefit of skepticism is here anyway. Honestly, who cares if it’s genuine? And, honestly, are any of our faith expressions genuine anything? Aren’t they always some holy mixture of skepticism and hope? Of fear and love? Of faith and despair or longing and exasperation? If all the love you have is offering a seed of hope to Kanye, you’ll be better for it. The Lord is within us as a well which never runs dry. As a spring which runs up to eternal life. We have eternity within us; are we afraid of offering a supporting prayer for this soul which we have tortured with our consumerism? He is a human being who was molded and shaped by capitalist structures (and our dollars) who is groping around for God. For goodness sake let’s make space for him at Jesus’ table.

Let’s keep praying the Lord uses whatever faith Kanye is offering here and multiplies it. Isn’t faith hard for all of us at different points in our journey, too?

For the record, I don’t think Jesus needs Kanye because of his celebrity status; I think Jesus loves Kanye and wants him to take part in his kingdom more than anything. I’m rooting for him.

The feeling of forgiveness

These tools
my accuser uses these tools
to carve away
at me.
My being, 
my beauty.

Who gave these tools to 
my enemy? Truly, my accuser 
is not outside
of myself.
I have been holding these tools...

God holds these tools, too.
What happens when you hold them?

What happens 
when a bulb releases its pedals?
Or a seed releases its root?
What happens?
When the dove releases her young 
to fly and to learn to fly
and to fall and to learn to fall.

When God holds these tools life changes 
and is reborn.
Right now, I am holding on to them, 
help me 
to let them go.

In the story that follows Jesus meets a woman who is trying to give the tools which shape her to God. Even the story says she was a sinner. I think Luke includes that because it was well known and he wanted us to know what everybody else already knew. She wore her heart on her sleeve, you could say. And everybody saw how wounded she really was.

The superficial is apart of the process, but it shouldn’t be the goal

I can relate to this woman. Often I’ve considered her: a woman who has a past and really only has one hope. What else is there? It’s kind of like those bumper stickers which say “be kind.” As if, if everybody in the world were kind to one another we would finally be rid of racism, or xenophobia. If we were just kind to one another the wage gap would be bridged; maybe the world would look more socialist–or globalist. I think we need to be kind to each other, too. I mean, what’s our other option? But I get a little unsettled when I see stuff like that–kind of like when I saw the #prayforAmazonia hashtag. Like I said, yes, let’s pray for the Amazon, but maybe we should eat less beef or imported soy. We can pray and we should. I believe in the power of prayer. I think I was bothered by the hashtag because praying can be cathartic, too. If that’s all I do. And it can be exhausting feeling like I have to have it all figured out to take the first steps in being apart of Christ’s answer to my prayer. It’s a good thing there are communities who are committed to being the Body of Christ together, otherwise we might feel like we are all Jesus individually and get nothing done but “pray.”

I don’t mean to be too cynical. I hear Jesus saying that we need more than “thoughts and prayers” to express our faith and to receive forgiveness. This woman’s saving faith was more than a thought. Check out this interaction:

Now one of the Pharisees asked Jesus to have dinner with him, so he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. Then when a woman of that town, who was a sinner, learned that Jesus was dining at the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfumed oil. As she stood behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. She wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with the perfumed oil. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him, that she is a sinner.” So Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” He replied, “Say it, Teacher.” “A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed him five hundred silver coins, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon answered, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled.” Jesus said to him, “You have judged rightly.” Then, turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house. You gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss of greeting, but from the time I entered she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with perfumed oil. Therefore I tell you, her sins, which were many, are forgiven, thus she loved much; but the one who is forgiven little loves little.” Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?” He said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
Luke 7:36-50

God’s love for us

Maybe I’m so frustrated by the sediments to “be kind” or “pray more” because that leaves me alone, again. Like the woman, I need a lot of forgiveness. And like my poem exemplified above, my shame still haunts me. For real, my search for God is an expression of my faith: my hope that in Christ I can be healed. The woman seems to have had that same heart. I like to imagine that she didn’t even know that she needed her sins forgiven, maybe she didn’t think it was possible. I know I didn’t. I wonder if she went to Jesus because she had heard of how lovely a person he was. This is one of my favorite poems by Khalil Gibran. He wrote a book of historical fiction poetry called Jesus, Son of Man. Here is his rendering of Mary Magdalane encountering Jesus:

His mouth was like the heart of a pomegranate, and the shadows in His eyes were deep.
And He was gentle, like a man mindful of his own strength.
In my dreams I beheld the kings of the earth standing in awe in His presence.
I would speak of His face, but how shall I?
It was like night without darkness, and like day without the noise of day.
It was a sad face, and it was a joyous face.
And well I remember how once He raised His hand towards the sky, and His parted fingers were like the branches of an elm.
And I remember Him pacing the evening. He was not walking. He Himself was a road above the road; even as a cloud above the earth that would descend to refresh the earth.
But when I stood before Him and spoke to him, He was a man, and His face was powerful to behold. And He said to me, "What would you, Miriam?"
I would not answer Him, but my wings enfolded my secret, and I was made warm.
And because I could bear His light no more, I turned and walked away, but not in shame. I was only shy, and I would be alone, with His fingers upon the strings of my heart.

I really love Jesus. And I look at Luke 7 to see why that is. Not that I always need to know why but understanding where that love is coming from helps me be more bold in sharing my story and more free in sharing my love. And I think the story in Luke 7 is more nuanced in that “all we need” is not Jesus, per se. I think if a faith in Jesus is all we have we are eternally okay. We are safe and secure and better off than the alternative, kind of like being kind. But I think once we have Jesus we need to find a community we can know him in, and each other and ourselves.

I have cried because of the revelation of God’s love for me in Christ and knowing the love of my neighbor is like that. In fact:

I need my friends so I can know that God forgives me
and loves me. 
It’s in my confession to my friend, that I confess to
God. and 
it’s in my friends embrace do I see the tears of
forgiveness rolling down God’s cheek; as droplets 
slide down the side of a blade of grass,
slowly. 
And feel 
the warm hug of the 
Divine Love which mends my fractured heart.
What is family,
if not forgiveness?
A bond 
which transcends barriers
by the will of 
commitment
not individual.
Family bond transcends choice
by being chosen first.
The choice to be family
is the only choice 
which matters
at all, really.

I think we need more than prayer, at least when it is juxtaposed with “thoughts.” We need each other to love us with God’s love, how else would we know it?

Struggling with socialization… we don’t have to do it alone.

I decided to stay home today. To work and to write, mostly. Lately, I’ve been going to the Germantown Espresso Bar for some coffee and a croissant. Ever since we got cats (two of them) it has been difficult to stay home and not be consumed by their incessant meowing for attention. If we know they just ate and they have water what else could they possibly want? They aren’t sick, I don’t think. And they definitely aren’t near death! Anyway, anybody reading may have guessed by now that I am ADD, although I don’t really consider it a disorder, that’s why I said “I am ADD.” It’s kind of like Kanye West calling his Bipolar disorder his superpower on the song “Yikes.” That’s seriously how I feel about it and I take medication, too.

Are pets like kids?

I imagine these cats are like kids, even though my friend Lindsay laughs with me that it isn’t a close comparison. That’s fine, it’s the closest thing I have to imagine. I mean, listen to how this sounds: I consider going back the the Espresso Bar and I remembered how we could use the 10 bucks I would probably spend. I then considered staying home and imagined the cats meowing at me or jumping from the couch to the table, a far leap, or clawing at my neck trying to get my headphones. Or at least just playing and making noise. Isn’t that kind of like staying home with children? (“NO!!”…i get it…)

Ok, so kids don’t claw at your neck BUT more than once have I seen a toddler use their thumbs to pull out their parents hair or even ears (ouch). Even more than the inconvenience the animals present they get at my insecurity. They’re undoing me a bit and I think that’s a good thing, my therapist would say so. This is actually why I don’t want pets right now.

I also don’t want pets right now because I’m a helper. I believe that God has gifted me specifically to come along side somebody–whether that is in a menial task like dishes or walking with them in grief. This gift is being developed and is maybe underdeveloped in some ways which can create some conflict when I need to set boundaries. I love being apart of a person’s needs getting met, most of the time and I sometimes feel like I’m even hyper-sensitive to the needs in the room. You can imagine how these cats can climb all over these buttons.

They’re also climbing on other stuff, too. Sometimes, me. Sometimes, things that have glass on them or drinks or something else they shouldn’t. Do I need to stop them? Usually, stopping them just makes them more curious and I’ve found it’s better to just move the stuff I don’t want them around. But really, I’m akin to overthinking.

God is working with us, always.

I’ve got some work to do here. Really, I’m trusting God to fill my cup even though I may have chosen into something which is like asking for trouble. But I really believe God is like a loving parent who will not leave me alone in my maybe unwise decisions.

I’m not alone: we’re not alone.

Can a woman forget her baby who nurses at her breast? Can she withhold compassion from the child she has borne? Even if mothers were to forget, I could never forget you!
Isaiah 49:15

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Isn’t there more to life than food and more to the body than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky: They do not sow, or reap, or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you more valuable than they are? And which of you by worrying can add even one hour to his life? Why do you worry about clothing? Think about how the flowers of the field grow; they do not work or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed like one of these! And if this is how God clothes the wild grass, which is here today and tomorrow is tossed into the fire to heat the oven, won’t he clothe you even more, you people of little faith? So then, don’t worry saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For the unconverted pursue these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But above all pursue his kingdom and righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So then, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Today has enough trouble of its own.
Matthew 6:25-34

A mother and father are major biblical portraits for God. (but mostly father right?!) Frankly, I’m frustrated with the culture for socializing me with such a closed mind. Religious fundamentalism isn’t the only way, either. Individualism, consumerism, nationalism, etc… I was talking with Raissa and a friend, Walaa, last night about how the systems we are in–to work, learn or just live– really want us to follow their premeditated norms (they’re both medical students so they know something about oppressive systems)! That’s fine, I guess. They aren’t always thoughtless or oppressive but without question when the status quo gets questioned the system flips out. Remember what happened when a black football player dared to exercise his first amendment rights in his context? As Lecrae said, “the system didn’t plan for this.”

Finding healing in community

A lot of my wounds come from socialization and my own incessant meowing for attention. But, I don’t think it’s right to shift blame too much. I’m owning my whole life with God, here, so that doesn’t even make much sense. Who I have and will become is bigger than my consciousness, anyway. I am apart of a community in Philly called Circle of Hope which is helping me towards this liberation. We really are just trying to be alive. That’s what I really want, anyway. Another friend of mine, Ben, has a blog called “Today, if you hear his voice.” I love his title because that’s what being alive is all about: today, listening for God. While it’s still “today” and while we are actually alive. I’m tired of searching for life while being alive and the now sleeping cats are helping to remind me that I am already alive. Amazing. Brady said in our cell the other night that maybe life is all about the struggle. I’ve been digging that lately.

The struggle of socialization…
being a fish placed in a tank unknown to it.
Her mind as closed as the 4 glass walls but still
searching for meaning
without the slightest understanding
of what oxygen is.
Liberation from her tank
would be death
for the fish.

Not for us, though.
We’re not fish, really.
We still search for meaning and
the glass walls around our mind are
not unbreakable. Thank God.
And breaking them
probably wouldn’t kill us.
Probably.

Struggling with socialization might feel like dying; come out of hiding…
struggling with socialization might be the breaking
that we all need,
at least me.
When I need
to heal. Or
to feed the cats.

I said the other day to my friend Will as I was helping him with a ride to the airport, as he’s done many time before for me, “life, why try to do it alone?” He said, “that’d be a good tagline for Circle of Hope.” I thought so, too.

I am. a poem

I am

A spectrum;

on different ones like

mentally, spiritually,

definitely, emotionally,

and lately

physically.

Sometimes I feel afraid because

my dial flips too quickly

and there isn’t time to get used to

this new state.

But anyway,

I have fear

and It probably never really goes away.

That’s why I said I have it.

I am

creative.

I must be like The Creator,

I have dreams with beauty and harmony–

of walking under starlit skies, the moon so bright

I can see the craters.

I dream of peace with my neighbor:

being comfortable being known and even

peace with The Creator. Which feels a lot like

peace with myself.

Somewhere else on the spectrum

I dream of pain. Of hurting the ones I love.

I hold onto shame, but it is well hidden.

Deeper than a well, actually.

It’s like walking with a nail in my foot,

every step hurts, but you get used to it, and the pain

of taking the nail out

would be worse.