...what comes from asking fourteen friends when they are most themselves
And they try to break us. Because they think we are powerless when we are broken. They nailed Him to a cross. They crowned His head with thorns. They beat Him. They tore Him down with words. He knew betrayal and fear. He walked this land, this land I have seen with my own eyes, have touched with my own hands.
They try to break us. And they do. And when we are pieces scattered at the feet of their emptied eyed soldiers... they will find that we rise remade more powerful than we were before. For even in my destruction, another sister, brother, child, lover stands. For my Christ is now, then, forever. Never absent, always present. He walked here once but walks here, my heart, your heart, this kiss, this midnight prayer, now.
I’m finding myself at a loss for words... but the last thing I need is to be heard. I need only to hear what you have to say. Christ. My Lord. In your light, in your arms, beneath your hands, I am remade. Renewed. Reborn every dawn. Teach me. Guide me. Lift me to skies adorned with constellations that only you know their names. Place your mark upon my brow. I am ready to stand up.
“Word of God speak!
Would You pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see
Your majesty.
To be still and know
that You're in this place.
Please let me stay and rest
in Your holiness.
Word of God speak...”
In the quiet I hear your voice. In the midst of you I find release from this coil. Foil to faith, this culture of breaking, tearing. All I need to find myself is the knowledge that you already know who I am. I am unafraid then. I do not need to blush in shame or hide my eyes from what I know stands within me. Because my Lord, my Christ, you already know and you love me. Show me then? I’m looking. Draw me close. Whisper. Don’t let anyone else hear. It’s just you and me. Like when I was a child. Show me... please.
Musing, wondering
how it is
that you can inspire such
confidence
in me.
Once, I thought
that only my
Christ could continuously
break and remake
me.
But, now
it's as if I've
transformed into another woman
nearly unrecognizable
to myself.
And I muse. In your light. In your velvet dark. Beneath your sky. I hear the sleeping sounds of doves. I hear the movement of the universe. I realize that I am not interested in being stable. Even if it loses me the one I love more than any other. I am not interested in being anything other than the angel I have always been for you, Lord. I am finding myself, again, in the midst of you. And all that I need is to be with you. In this quiet... I hear your voice.
Divinity rises white-light before me and I lose my connection to this thing called consciousness. I prefer the place I visit. You are there. And you. And you.
Who is this woman
before me? I don't
recognize myself
in the mirror.
What is this
feeling? Primal.
Almost dangerous.
Confidant.
Christ?
What have you done?
This intensity.
What has she shown me?
Walk into my life, Lord. Walk into my room as lover, child, friend. I will recognize you. I will know you instantly even hidden behind roses-and-cream skin or eyes cerulean blue. I will know you if you are listening to rock ‘n’ roll. If you swear like a sailor. If you wail like a toddler. If you sip coffee, if you ask me for change, if you cut in line. I will feel you like a cascade of kisses. I will feel you like the caress of poetry. I will blush. I will cry silently, tears hot on heated cheeks. I will know joy as a golden welling in my chest. I will know you. I know me. I will know you. Test me. I will not fail.
I find myself
I find my Christ
when I dance with her
the woman
who completes me
as no one ever has.
And the beat
carries us through
these dark times
forever times
beginning times
the children laugh
she is crying
and I love her
endlessly.
I feel Him to the core of me. I feel Him at the core of me. He is my bones, holding me here. He is my muscles, moving me through. He is my heart, beating in my love for you. A seed of perfection in a mortal woman who is far from perfect. But not so far from Him.
He had his reasons.
He had his lies.
Saying he loved
but he didn’t.
If you could only see
the way she loves me.
Then maybe
you would understand.
Why I feel this way
about our love.
And what I must do.
If you could only see
how blue her eyes can be
when she says she loves me.
My hands
on her face.
Her hair falls
over my fingers.
My eyes are closed.
But still I see her.
Her breath
on my cheek.
I find myself.
And I rise and walk into the night. The sound of the waves is beneath the fog that’s rolling in. I recite aloud. I think my voice sounds like my own. I know your scriptures better than my parents think. Those words that may or not may be your own. I know your scripture.
Where is that sound
you make only for me?
Let me trace the shape
of your mouth
with my fingertips.
My own lips pressed
close to my own hand.
To feel and taste you
at once.
Make that sound for me
again so that I
can know you.
Can we serve Him before we know ourselves? Do little children serve Him? Do those still in the harbor of their parents, moored and bobbing? I want to know who I am in this world of His so to know exactly what I can do. I don’t want to find myself in the heat of battle. I want to know my armory.
“I can make you feel yourself again.”
“You certainly can. No one makes me more *myself* than you do.”
Lord? Speak to me. I am right here. Find me. I call to you... unbidden. Oh sweet Christ. Your touch like none other. Lover, father, teacher. I recognize you. Shh. I’m listening. Shout for me. I’ll find you. Help me... recognize myself.
Christ...
You placed me here.
Divinely inspired.
To protect and defend.
Impassioned.
Absolute fire.
Days, weeks, months...
years. I am
yours.
I am
me.
Place me in your
moment. I will
see seize be
in that moment.
I will live
cry bleed shout
in that struggle.
I will fight.
I will fight
for you in your
name until
the calm comes.
Finding myself, finding my God. Finding you, finding my God. Opening my eyes, opening yours. Name it. Name me. Name us. Claim me. Take me. I have taken you into my heart, into my body, into my blood stream. My heart breaks against my chest. And it wasn’t until He showed them the wounds at His side and in His hands that they believed it was Him. And these are the men I’m supposed to trust for my scripture?
Hm. Baby? I don’t think so.
For in my heart
I love and cherish you.
Forever.
This feeling will not calm.
Walking my divine path
to make this love
with you.
You make me
the most myself
every moment
of every day
because I am yours
and you are mine.
Being yours
is sacred.
And I find myself.
Toss my hair. The wind like birth. Cold here. I strip my jacket away. There is something to remember. Broken bones. Something. Not sure. Father? Watch me. This is called... running.
“Rivers flow into the sea
yet even the sea is not so full as me.
I’m not blind so I can see:
That a circle can’t fit
where a square should be.
This hole in my heart?
Can only be filled by you.”
In the hospital, I dream of the night we went dancing. You were the symbol of everything I desired (and could not have). You were the symbol of my Christ (which I could and did have). My back against the bar, the blonde from Bellevue draped off my neck, I watched you while she whispered Saccharine nothings. My gaze was not exactly friendly but exactly Christian. There was a passion for you I could not contain. You danced with your hands above your hand, your shoulders rocked back. I watched the arch of your neck and your spine. I saw Christ. And I know that every New Testament Christian who has ever laid eyes on you will know exactly what I’m talking about. Owl wise eyes so closed, you were living music. I re-found my Christ. Finalized Mardi Gras 3000 that dawn.
Wanted to wake up with you. Wanted to roll into you arms after making love and flutter my eyes open against your cheek. Knew I would feel the most myself in that moment. Instead I woke up praying. It was the same. I woke up myself.
“I’m not ashamed
to be the person that I am today.
These are my words
that I’ve never said before.
I think I’m doing okay...”
I was born this way. In love with my Christ. I was born this way. To celebrate this body. I was born this way. A woman unwilling to compromise for the finite mortal phase. I’ve been wrong. I’ve been blind. I refused to be myself while my Lord danced for me. I’ve covered my ears. I’ve turned to His world instead of to Him.
But I’m done. Being undone by you, I am finally done.
Lord...
“This is how you remind me
of what I really am.
It's not like you to say sorry.
I was waiting on a different story.
It's not like you didn't know that.
I said I love you and I swear I still do.”
And I asked, “When do you feel the most yourself?” And you answered:
Who am I? That first is the question. I would like to be many things. I have dreamed of being many things. But I *know* only that I am one thing. I am Christ’s. I belong to Him as I have belonged and will belong to no other. I am without the empathy that I think my fellows were born with. I recognized it early enough to not know to shut up about it. I will break anything and anyone and not wonder why. I will make someone, fight for them with words and fists and savvy and not question their worth. I will pray for deliverance and not expect it. I know only that He whispers it, and so I do it. By His light I have walked and will walk these dark streets. I am not afraid. My shepherd in dark alleys and the back’s of cars and cheap hotel rooms and expensive condos that over-look the water. This is who I am. This is what I am made of. He put me here. This is what I’m good at. I am myself when my head is bowed. I am myself when on my knees. I am myself... when I celebrate everything He is, when the fire of prayer burns over my hands, fills my mouth, rocks my body like thunder. When I feel the force of Him, I am myself. The force of Him that has allowed me to survive.
This force.
Lord?
Beneath your night time sky. Shooting stars. This force. You. I am found.
EJ
