All Around The Sun

Subtle shades of cream blue, peach, rose petal pink, ivory. 33,000 feet above the earth will make the looming gaps between sky and soil insignificant. Cracks carve bone out of ice; I glide above the Arctic. Down on the planet’s skin lies Russia.

Did I ever think I would witness the rotation of the sun staying bold and unrelenting, of earth’s arc and end up in places wet with new, wide-eyed wonder? How in the world did I end up revolving around it in such surprising measure?

We are just passing through. Always, simply passing through the steps of life that stretch to moments. Russia will slip beyond us as we move along the air, and when we land on the outskirts of Asia, there is still another leg to go.

The man next to me still smells fresh eight hours in. Spice and Caribbean water. Comfort. His voice dances with blend of places, history, family lines, hands with working knuckle creases. I listen to him talk of his mother and how he cares for her as a son’s privilege, and of his insatiable thirst for travel.

There are stories of us scattered around the globe. These are the words that fill the universe’s pages, honed and crafted by life’s curator, the One who knit the worlds alive.

 

 

Read more over here!

Dark Space, Black Matter

Before the canvas of the world was painted, the earth was void, black, formless.

Intentionally kept dark for creation, for becoming, purpose was published from shadows, from an ink blanket of berth. This was good, part of the order of things.

So I allow the same for my soul. Sit in the unshapen, breathless; being. No push to rush away the restless, the flush of alone and feeling of being lost in charcoal soil. I am welcomed in ways I would never been had I not ventured into hovering waters, deep and endless and uncolored. Grappling with this way of being, hearing society slap me with a quick, happy fix that inadvertently accuses my faith. Light versus dark. Skin versus spirit. Righteousness versus sin. As if when one side exists, the other couldn’t possibly.

I have not been born to carry continuous happy bubbled within my chest. My burden is my blessing in the underbelly of life, where my tears find themselves falling down the skin of someone else, where my anchored heart magnetizes with the weight of theirs. Where I am constantly standing in line with the loose rise of moon, its face deep creviced and reflecting light in imitation.

Under the earth is dark space anyway, but I delve into the black, attempts to feel my way to fine.

I have always been more comfortable in the shadows than daylight. And I had buried it in shame, thinking something must be wrong with me that I sink into melancholy more than most. If I wasn’t shining joy from my countenance, then I wasn’t truly experiencing God’s goodness.

And so I sunk deeper into wondering what was wrong with the way I was wired, wracking my brain to find a solution to solve the unsettled. Attend church, find people to live life with, keep praying even when these spheres would not orbit well around my faith. I attempted to jam the pieces together with surface, always the smile and the “life is good but busy” bit. And if there was trouble and I let a few in to see the struggle of my heart, they point to sin and tell me to stick with Jesus. Because Lord knows, on my own I can create endless mess of what I meant to tame.

 

 

Read the rest of this piece over at ALTARWORK!

 

**Photo courtesy of ALTARWORK

You Are A Journey

You are a journey and I am a traveler,
weary with wandering in circles
with no destiny.
You are close,
I stretch, pull,
barrel through
for miles, then find
I am far from
where I started.
My ribs have ribbons
stitching them together
to patch my bleeding heart.
I close my eyes
and pick a path,
then turn in stunned silence
when I find the distance
my feet cover
lead in broken patterns
to Your gate.
I toss about the wind,
let it send me spiraling
through Your land and
pray You do not
discipline trespassers.

Missing Shape

You are the missing shape
that has been carved out
of my heart all these years
that has called out to me
through miles and moments,
keeping rhythm with me
until you finally made it home
and found rest inside the space
that makes me whole.

It Shimmers In The Distance

A jewel of a dream, twinkling like a snowflake just fallen on a fresh winter’s day. A gleam, a wink of an eye, close but a fingertip’s length away. It’s what I want, and I can feel it boiling in my belly, simmering, taste its sweetness upon my breath. In a dark night, it unwraps light, giving sight to black veils and polarizing the world with vibrant blinking strings of pearls. My desire is no match for its beauty, its grace, and by its shimmer I guide my heart to its shore. I am directionless without it. Yet still it smiles, still turns translucent in its shine just beyond my reach, beyond a line paining the horizon. It shines for me, my beacon of dreams.