i know there is Truth.
and i thought i knew truth.
fortunately for all of us
they can be mutually exclusive

{although, they shouldn’t be}

when sorrow redeemed itself
i found the grace i had hidden

but when light shined brightest,
grace became lost in the shadow
of memories and questions

everywhere
and it’s a good thing
moving so fast
and finding it hard to stop
at least i can rest in
the fact you
are in each in breath
filling my lungs
circulating in my veins
coursing with each beat
through my heart

thank you

Relevant has posted a new article by yours truly. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for all your support!

The Little Green Monster — Anne Jackson

frail…
hanging on by a thread
[strong, quiet, red]
yet barely attached, and reflections
of the past cause envy in the present
soaking and swimming in thoughts
[to prove that i'm not worthy of this task before me]
as if you didn’t already know
fear of their expectations
my slavery to them
actually hold some value
disappointed me, you
but hidden behind a wall of enamel
i’m still protected from their knowledge of the truth
not yours, mine
ends justifying the means
presumably
at least at this juncture
and here
i wait.

lately, i’ve been wondering so much about the history of my faith. i’m not questioning the inerrant truths of the bible, but my soul is lacking the rich past of the christ-followers who journeyed centuries before me; their traditions (and most importantly the meaning behind those traditions), their ideals, their loves, god’s glorification through them.

my soul is lacking the mystical and unexplainable aspects of my faith.

i think sometimes we try too hard to explain the unexplainable and in doing so, we somehow lessen the power of the mystery and beauty of our heavenly father has; and unfortunately we confine our existence on the earth to glorify him into a neat little box.

although biblical application to our lives is necessary for our survival, not to mention our very worship and communion with god, why must we always have an answer for everything that happens in life? why must we justify everything?

we drain the wonder out of all things wonderful.

and then the only thing we are left wondering about is why our lives lack the spark and mystery we had as children…in a time before we knew it all.

in a time where all we did was wonder.

split
visible touch
tangible love
not reaching far enough
impossible
blockade, barbed wire
my fault.

[evidently i pull this off well]
[evidently now even my eyes don't tell the truth]
[evidently this "breathing in" still isn't deep enough]
[and exhaling is only a reminder]
[that this breath is not the only thing exiting]