A Word To My Reader
I am not a perfect voice calling out in the dark, but a broken voice calling out in the dark. I have not said anything perfectly, nor have I ever touched on perfection flawlessly. Every element I speak on found here will fall short on every degree because of the breadth and width of which the topic expands (both logically and emotionally). In fact the only thing I can come closest to in explaining perfectly would be my brokenness, because that, I know better than perfection. I can only try to speak about the glimpses of perfection I have seen in my life. Please bear that in mind as you read. I hope that these compositions can bring further light to the honest depths and heights that life teaches us about ourselves, the world around us, and the starter of this all, God.
As Phillip Lopate says, in reading this you will learn more about my “habits of thought” than the activities that actually make up my day to day. I do not assume that most will want to read any of this, but for the one who is feeling lost or confused, for the one who is trying to find reason to keep living, for the one who is fighting against himself, others, or his God, and desiring to better understand why, I hope these pieces of writing might be a friend to you. I hope they push you to press on, to appreciate living (and working), to appreciate the smallest of moments with a family member, close friend, or stranger. I hope they move you to explore and imagine, to find the “why” behind anything, and to trust that though we have a finite understanding, the One who is infinite has been made accessible to mankind. Mankind meaning you and me, and there is no small amount of peace to be found in that truth.
P.S. I attached a song to the bottom of each composition to accompany its reading. Enjoy!
A Shared Name
(March 7, 2018)
Youngest of five, older than four
First there were boys, she, the first girl
Played with their Legos, dressed in their shorts
She was a tomboy, loved all the same sports
Mama said there had been one before
Baby would have been her number four
Cleaning the windows till pain in her side
Red filled the water, water filled her eyes
If she was a girl her name would be mine
Brother sang about her, his own little rhyme
He said that all was good and all was okay
Because "Leah was found in heaven that day"
But my name is Leah and I’m still alive
Too soon to tell what the baby was inside
My brain keeps repeating again and again
“I wonder who I would be, and who you would have been”
My life would have changed, my name would be different
An older sister can change things, I guess quite a bit
If you were a girl, I now carry your name
We'll share it together; I won't bring it to shame.