I am that deep down near to the earth feeling
baked into this red clay.

I am a still heart
speaking silent volumes of peace.

I am o.k.

I’ll be o.k.

Fear is no longer real
but a momentary cool breeze to a soul on fire.

It fans the flames
I leap higher.
And the thief is consumed in Glory.

I am the eyes watching the monitor flatline,
watching the old man die.

Today is for victory.

“Knowing this,
that our old man is crucified with him,
that the body of sin might be destroyed,
that henceforth we should not serve sin.”

—Romans 6:6

How come its so hard.
This being me without the makeup.
(And I hate makeup.)
How come its so hard.
To stay. still. and. know
That He is.

Here is this earth body.
That works and toils,
eyes behind the screen,
retina etched with dancing letters
with names and places and prayers.

This dirt-skin that He bound to a covering
with His breath.
This clay stretched out over a rib bone
and still wearing shreds of animal skin.

Because I cram the silverware in a disorderly fashion
into a crockery jar
rather than placing
it
into
the
neat
rows
of a drawer organizer.

Because I want these words to be a song
but when I watch myself sing
the sick comes
again
of seeing my own face
stumble through
which expression is proper
and I hit delete.

Because when I hear those David words
I want to form my own.
That don’t lack
that aren’t for an audience
but can go higher
because they haven’t been said before.

But its all been said before.

So I eat a Cadbury egg at midnight.
So I sleep later than I should.
I let my children stay up later than they should
and I fail and I grow and I fail and I grow
until nothing is left but this leafless stalk
stretching high high high
up into the heavens
and I feel like a Babel tower
or Jack the giant killer
who will steal what doesn’t belong to me
because of my own mistake
in not selling the cow like I was told

Why do we glorify that?

Why didn’t I just sell that cow?

And I’ll chew the cud
of each wrong decision
again and again and again
hoping to find the purpose in
the broken-ness.

And its there.
Amidst all this chasing.
The circle running,
breathing so it hurts,
because I’m really not in shape for this
but if I stop I’ll lose
and I can’t bear it.

I have to find You.

Even though I know I’m running in the palm of Your Hand.

(for those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter—
I’ve had a rough few days
of finding out that my identity has been stolen,
my tax return rejected,
and running about hither and yon trying to fix everything.
And I can’t.
And its o.k.
And I’m just going to sit here and write it out.
So, there you go.)

alice through the looking glass
this day is a madhatterteaparty
and i’m the only
sane one.
poor me,
not able to find my center.
tell me a riddle-rhyme
sir caterpillar.
how doth the little
crocodile
improve his shining tail?
i don’t know.
(i don’t think you do either)
i sit here wondering
as i wonder
and what i wish
is for a star to hitch
my boat to.
there is no end to how
far i could go
with
just
a
little
propulsion.

cheshirecatsmile
at me as i sail
so very far
away.
drinkme
said the note.
eatme
said the letter.
and i did
becoming
so small
i faded away.

©sarasophia 2009