Beauty in Brokenness

I dig deep
and pull up a shard
a fragment of my broken life
sharp, jagged edges
clutched in hand

I squeeze tight
and bleed

I have found the source of my pain, but I don't want to let it go.

Then, prayer
silence and waiting
more prayer

Something almost imperceptible shifts
a pinky quivers
and a shadow of hope is cast

I start to notice
hands lifted in surrender
scars on palms

Another finger relaxes
another
I let go completely

A brief silence, a skipped beat, a sharp breath
catch me?

Yes

Long exhale
rest and recovery

God raises that shard to the light
and rainbows dance in dark places
spreading hope

The promise of life has been fulfilled,
again.

My Everything

You are God
I am me
You are big
I am small
You are strong
I am weak

I am in the spirit
You are the spirit
I am in the light
You are the light
I am in the music
You are the music

I am not safe
You are my shelter
I am hungry
You are my bread
I am alone
You console me

I make mistakes
You forgive me
I stumble
You pick me up
I turn away
You follow me

I am your child
You are my everything

Fire the Architect

There is a truth that God has etched upon my soul; it is love.

It is the seed of freedom that grows when I return to the divine wellspring with my empty vessel.

But I am so rarely empty.

I build God in my image or borrow blueprints from others.

Then, somewhere in the middle of the night, I realize it is all theory. Every last word.

And I am alone.

The walls that provided me with a sense of security have been abolished.

Just. Like. That.

Gone.

In my aloneness I am empty.

Yet somehow this site of deconstruction, this demolition, is God's favourite place to dwell.

I have no ideas, no pictures, no manual.

But I now have space.

Space to be filled with What Is.

And I am.