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.