This morning I sat in a pew,
Just after the sun appeared,
And as my priest read from the book,
I couldn’t hold back my tears.
Psalm 139, a hard one to speak
the words resistant to form –
and knowing my anger, but sensing some peace,
Of which path to take I was torn.
Those around me now kneeling,
taking pause to rest from their race –
With imperfection, and doubt, worry and fear,
but showing up to receive, again, grace.
His body, His blood, I never feel worthy
What’s been done to me feels like my name –
And though at times, I come guarded, with fists,
His arms remain open the same.
Even from youth, this word they call ‘love’
Wasn’t safe and often brought horror –
But something is shifting, a loosening perhaps,
And fear is now melting to sorrow.
I want a quick fix, to hurry on past
The ‘reorienting’ process uncertain –
There’s no list to check, can’t perform my way through,
And it seems I’ve paused in the hurting…
Until everyone leaves and there’s no ‘proper order,’
My prayers, aloud, free to breathe –
Of God pursuing, I’m cautious, I’m scared,
But I beg of Him never to leave!
I know how to fight, I know how to run,
and to brace for wrath on my journey –
What I haven’t yet learned, but am curious and seek,
Is how I truly allow Him to love me.
You’d never know beyond the smile
I’ve mastered the hiding of pain –
But little by little as control I surrender
I’m becoming less scared of the rain.