Like hard
We're talking, lighting my one single candle, blacking out my room and talking to this solo flame. Out loud.
I always, always, surprise myself when I start just crying. It's just that though. The cry is different. The cry is very shy and shaky. Goose bumpy. Never expected because I go into this prayer pretty pumped. Like, "yeah," I am about to have a one on one with this light.
Then my mouth opens and gah dang... here comes that weird, unexpected shaky thing. It normally reflexes me to stop, "gather myself," and start over. (Or quit altogether).
Last night was different though, with repetitions of making myself uncomfortable, I simply paused instead of gathering. I thought to myself, tremble through it...
Perhaps this is your spirit finally given space to talk and not gather. She has been gathering for the last some years now and is wound tight - she needs to unravel.
This is her voice speaking with the flickered light, illuminate. Do not judge her. It sounds shy because she is. Is this the first time you have given her center stage? Is this the first time you are not quitting on her because she sounds small, timid and meek?
Do you remember being 5 years old getting up in front of your entire school to sing... "Take
me out to the ball game." You shook but you did it again and again, year after year... "Somewhere over the Rainbow," followed by, "A needle pulling thread," belting "Sea Cruise" with Christian Luthi on the drums. You gave that girl a ton of reps. That chick loves the limelight!
But this One, you silenced. Swept away by the cheers and applauds of a different type of light, did you forget the one who tucked you in at night? The one that brought you to a Womb and the one that will wipe you out.
I've been praying hard. Tired of ideas and plans that can get me far.
I shut out the lights and gave her the mic... but this time with the solo flickering light. It took her courage to not gather, courage to not quit.
I had to tell myself, AL.. shut the fuck up and let her speak. So I did. If the lights were on you would've seen my cheeks turned red. Shamed to say I was embarrassed at the awkwardness in which she spoke. Those crooked tears.
Her voice, their voices. Who are they? Where are they coming from? Rhetoric.
Baby, I'm unraveling and I don't know who this is. She is coming from some depth that feels foreign yet all the while so familial to me.
The days turn into longer nights.
AL... shh.
Your prayers are being answered.
And Happy birthday to my two beautiful Sisters.
Cave in MO.
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