when i was in my larval stage
before I knew the word “misogyny”
i asked my diary why God
put the dreams of a great man
into the body of a small girl
who had neither the strength nor the intelligence
to achieve them.
and i was so, so smart,
and i was so, so strong.
There are so many things about God I am unlearning right now, just at the time that I am supposed to be teaching you. There are so many things that I do not want to pass down to you.
And yet, there are some things that I really, really want you to know:
I want you to know that you are held.
I want you to know that there is a Love out there that will still envelop you, no matter how long you freefall in a dark space.
I don’t want to tell you that if you have enough faith that everything will turn out alright.
Because, in my experience, it won’t,
and that expectation will become a dagger in your heart.
I don’t want to tell you that you’re going to be healed.
Because, sometimes you will be, and sometimes you won’t.
And sometimes the people you love will be, and sometimes they won’t.
And there really doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.
I can say this:
Sometimes you’ll get the miracle you ask for.
And it will blow your mind wide open and fill your heart with wonder and gratitude.
But sometimes you won’t get that miracle.
Sometimes the Worst Possible Thing will happen.
And it will tear your heart wide open and leave your mind stumbling.
But in those times, you’ll find a different sort of miracle – a quieter one but in no way less wondrous.
The miracle is that the Love I told you about will be there in that horrible, horrible void.
That it will wrap itself around you while the whole world falls apart.
And that at some point, you will get up off the floor.
At some point, you will get dressed.
At some point, you will walk back out into the world.
And when you do, you’ll be a little more tender. And your roots will stretch a little deeper.
And you’ll have a power possessed only by people who have been to dark places:
the ability to really see another person, and to sit with them in their own dark places.
And be Love there.
And you’ll find that that kind of miracle is, in fact, the one that keeps all of us going.
God who holds everything together
by whom molecules bind and firing neurons form thoughts
Inventor of toddler snuggles and loving glances
by whom rocks banging together can result in
the living sound of water escaping snow under a late february sun
of birds, giddy with newness,
in competition for the most weightless song
incursions of purple into a wasteland of white
as the crocuses sense that something is coming
there’s snow on the ground but we know that it’s coming and you can’t tell us otherwise
God by whom I have been seen
God who has met me
on the floor of that apartment
on the way to that hospital
who has not required of me
who has only asked me to accept comfort and to know peace
who at times when there was no floor
has told me that I would not fall forever
who has shown me that
even when it is not alright
somehow still I am alright
I’ll call you by the names I know
but I do not expect the name that I call matters
as much as that I call
and ask for a floor
just, at some point, a floor
and that when I land I would not be alone