things that happen inside people

i spent last year in Malawi, and i saw many things.

i cried, traveled, was challenged, and i absorbed many things.

BBC filled my mind, and tragedy filled my sight, and i learned many things.

hope was preached by hypocrisy's best friend: indifference, and i gave up on many things.

up and down, i came and fled from Jesus, and i suffered many things.

mind abuzz with questions lacking answers, and illusions, now deluded, i lost faith in many things.

soul-bothered and sore-shouldered, carrying the weight of the burden of helplessness, i discerned many things.

push, pull, tug, tear, and my heart whispered many things.

until finally, when all was at a loss, and everything i valued was sifted and shifted and decreased, i stared at my dirty feet, heaved a great heave of Malawian sky, and knew that Jesus was still King, and i was content.
with many things.

reading is confusing?

why cant i just make things easy and read one book at a time? i have at five separate books stretched open to the leaves i read last, laying about my room, lonely and waiting to be finished. and depending on my mood, i'd say i'll get around and finish them all by Christmas time. i read The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova in the mornings, and Great Expectations in the late morning. In the afternoon, I cover several documents in The Israeli-Arab Reader, and at night I switch between Henrik Ibsen's Emperor and Galilean and and Marcel Proust's Swan's Way.

Confused? So am I.

AND

now i miss Africa.

growing up starts inside, i think

God, be the breath in me;

Be the sparkle in my eye, the smile that glides strong and bright over that lower portion of my face;

Be the hand that gives, the wiry cord that ties up all my loose ends;

The socks that hold my shivering legs in one piece;

The shoes, tied tightly, that stand my feet upon the ground, in one place, never fleeing;

The engine within that revs forward at any show of fear, never shrinking;

Never shutting off, shutting down, freezing up.

I hope that I can swallow this angst and remind myself of who I am, of who God made me,

And walk into the brightest light, the darkness tunnel, to the other side of the door which is a mystery unto me.

The time has taken its time. My soul has persisted slowly, dragging its feet in heavy anticipation that one day I would actually need to take this great leap of faith, and trust

That someone will catch me.

And even if nobody does, and I eat gravel, I think God will still have me,

And He’ll be smiling at me, those big pearly whites glowing, because

I tried.

I faced fear and, conquered or defeated, I did what I thought ridiculous, impossible, impenetrable.

And I suppose I’ll just have to dust off my jeans and keep moving forward.

No.

Running forward.

today..

i release the fear in my heart.

and tomorrow is a new day to try everything all over again.

big breath. you got this.

living in a yellow yolky sun

the heat is overwhelming, but it is just enough to take me anywhere.

the day break flows in and fills up the empty dark spaces like watercolor running together over a creamy canvas. the suns cracks like a line over a cool, smooth egg shell. the air is fresh like mint on a chilled wind. it pours over my skin, refreshing my visage. my arms.

and the sun breaks forth in a yolky mass, spreading thickly and casts a humid atmosphere over us all. it is heavy, and so, so yellow.

reflections

passions, emotions,
they take hold, they grab hold;

and i am like a person who is held back by the ocean
from pursuing innumerable wonders
that would
fill my head with adventures
and
my heart with love.

O what a world that we live in!

so beautiful, yet filled with
many significant inconveniences.

restlessness paired with impassioned hearts and
limbs aching for action, yet constrained by time
and space.

progressive anxiety burrows into the muscles that
crowd my neck;
my joints pop(!) as often as i step.

today, i am extra everything;
wishful squared and restless;
seeking, longing, praying for differences.

my faith lies on a thin white line, barely moving yet
daring to leap.
a little speck, a tiny spark, is all it needs to catapult into the great unknown
that is our future.

my future.

the one i am waiting for, but not presuming to know.

and when it does arrive, the question is,
will i recognize its presence, or will it be like smell,
and simply be another part of me?