Falling for Dust

Fearlessly I breathe.

The air I inhale is different. Its texture is different, its purpose.

This air once suffocated me – taking my life slowly.

I fell, and I fought.

I fought the lies and I fought back tears.

I fought to mend broken hearts, mine included.

I fought pain and heartache.

I fought God on grace, whether I was worthy of receiving it.

After a fall, one often tries to stand.

But sometimes embracing gravity is the best medicine

And I had made my home in the depths.

And He bent down to write in the sand – to be close.

He didn’t ask me to stand, but joined me - the dust.

And He wrote: “Be still, I will fight for you”

He then reformed skin around this raw soul.

This skin I once saw as a cage, something to break free of, He formed to protect.

The skin I clawed, He kissed.

The skin I disowned, He gave a name - Beautiful.

He didn’t lift my chin, but bent lower.

Made Himself One with the Dust.

To meet my eyes.

For eyes speak wordlessly.

Because sometimes words aren’t enough.

He had fallen to His knees to fight for a glimpse of my Eyes.

And I stayed close to the ground,

Wondering why One would fight so fearlessly for dust-filled eyes.

Why One would fight so fear-less for one who has always been so fear-full.

Eyes are a glimpse of the Soul.

And this soul was found – lifeless.

Then came the air - the breath that brings life.

“The Lord formed a man from the dust of the ground

and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life,

and the man became a living being.”

He makes Living, the Dead.

He makes Living, the Dust.

His breath filled my lungs and this Dust became Divine.

And I became His.

Fearlessly.

 

The Beginning in the End

There is pain that runs so deep, words become muffled.

Only heavy sighs and groans can attempt to stifle the unutterable afflictions.

It’s the caving of hearts, the quaking of breaths, the heaving…….

All vain attempts to try to release the wound, to give it a Name, to speak it.

But it’s the silence between the heaves that speaks words raw, words unknown.

It’s loss. And we all lose.

But are we lost though we lose?

I describe the art of grief, and we all cringe.

I describe the lack of air, the caving of lungs, the infinite stream of salt water dripping onto surfaces that absorb its heartbreak, the eyes that can no longer open because they can’t bear to remember the reality of their grief, the racing heart beat seeking to pump blood through a seemingly lifeless being.

The images of ourselves in those states flash in our memories and are burned there.

The fire is consuming.

And we cringe.

Because we remember.

We remember our own grief, our own loss.

And we remember that it was too close.

It was on the edge. It wasn’t safe. It couldn’t be reached.

Too close.

Too close to Hopelessness?

Too close to a place avoided?

Too close to an end with no means?

Too close to Death?

We remember that state of closeness and our chests tighten, our bodies become stiff shells of protection, and our minds frantically seek to rectify how one could have possibly gotten so close and why anyOne would allow it.

Be still.

Know your God.

Remember that Death has no sting. No solution. No power.

Look closer.

Could it be life? Could it be Him?

Could our Monster be our Savior?

Look deeply.

Trust.

Could we be too close to life?

Could these moments of sheer end be our Salvation?

Because it is only in our “end” when He is awake-end in us.

In the Beginning was the Word and in the “end” His Word remains: “that he who believes in me will live even though he dies.”

It is in these close moments that we are closest to Him.

Only Divinity can touch these scars because only the Divine can know them.  

These pains are Divine because there is an end in mind – ours.

And a beginning to be found – Him.

And when He is found in our end, life begins.

And we are no longer too close, but close.

A Life Lived, Continues.

I can still see your eyes
When I choose to go blind
There's a fire within
It burns through my lies

You left me in winter
I still hear your voice
You remind me who I am
And that I'm left with a choice

Then came the spring
When all is made new
My heart found a home
I was invited by you

The snow may fall again
And hell may rise
But my choice still remains
To live or to die

Though you are gone
You remain in me
Your death reminds me of life
And I choose to be free.