(no subject)
Clear glass windows slightly cracked beside my rugged pew seat. Sunlight shining on my tanned skin and reflecting off my watch as I play with the reflection and try to place it on the cross. Suddenly a rejuvenating breath of life breathed into my soul. A tender breeze speaks with the truth in the words of the wind. Each quiet word spoken by the wind is done so with love’s directions and it is up to my chaotic mind to listen. Finally my mind forgets my baggy jeans friend Tom who is fittling with his hands beside me. I find myself in a maze of words and questions in which there is no escaping the walls of my contemplation. Concentration diverts to a delicate flower that was placed on top of the piano that is on the left side of the uneven stage where the preacher is shouting and crying. Each individual petal brings life to an area in me that is dead. Guitarist strumming softly, pianist lifting one finger to press another on a key that sets the mood. The preacher speaks soft words of peace that means so much more than he knows…
A tear in my soul reaches to the point where it is physically streaming down my check picking up the dirt of my soul on the way down till it drops to the blue carpet under my unpolished shoes. Letting out much more than a drop of water, but a drop of sin, pain, and all the little things that turn out to be backed with more emotion than the stepped-on rug can handle. It rips through the cloth like it is acid and as a matter of fact it is. Ashamed of letting the world see the hole in the carpet or telling them how it got there and so I cover it with my joyous smile and no one can tell it’s there. Look into my lonely eyes and see what I want you to see. The wind still embracing me as if I were a prodigal son returning to the source, the place where I first was found.
Culpability growing and rising in me like the gas prices at the gas station around the corner. Blame for sin that I never did commit, but sin that I am supposed to do because that is my place in life. Sin placed on me as if it were a slave name given to me as I enter a new country as an alien to their land. Animosity after one sentence of listening to some ignorant people. Rage growing and I can’t control it like a teacher cannot control a zany class full of middleschoolers who have ADD. Hatred against someone I love so dear and love something that I fear.
A tear in my soul reaches to the point where it is physically streaming down my check picking up the dirt of my soul on the way down till it drops to the blue carpet under my unpolished shoes. Letting out much more than a drop of water, but a drop of sin, pain, and all the little things that turn out to be backed with more emotion than the stepped-on rug can handle. It rips through the cloth like it is acid and as a matter of fact it is. Ashamed of letting the world see the hole in the carpet or telling them how it got there and so I cover it with my joyous smile and no one can tell it’s there. Look into my lonely eyes and see what I want you to see. The wind still embracing me as if I were a prodigal son returning to the source, the place where I first was found.
Culpability growing and rising in me like the gas prices at the gas station around the corner. Blame for sin that I never did commit, but sin that I am supposed to do because that is my place in life. Sin placed on me as if it were a slave name given to me as I enter a new country as an alien to their land. Animosity after one sentence of listening to some ignorant people. Rage growing and I can’t control it like a teacher cannot control a zany class full of middleschoolers who have ADD. Hatred against someone I love so dear and love something that I fear.