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May 23, 2013 And your doubt can become a good quality if you train it. It must become knowing, it must become criticism. Ask it, whenever it wants to spoil something for you, why something is ugly, demand proofs from it, test it, and you will find it perhaps bewildered and embarrassed, perhaps also protesting. But don’t give in, insist on arguments, and act in this way, attentive and persistent, every single time, and the day will come when, instead of being a destroyer, it will become one of your best workers—perhaps the most intelligent of all the ones that are building your life.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
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Emotion rushes over you
Falling apart from the inside out
Tragedy all around you
Erupting the heart’s deepest fears
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Never was control an option
Instead, call it “a decision”
Death and life adjacent
Today could be my last
—
Slaughters affirm
The reality of immorality
Infecting communities like disease
Left drowning in hopelessness
—
So much damage, so much pain
What hope?
What god?
Please Jesus, give us a break!
—
When it rains, it pours
Could this situation be redeemed?
How am I to worship you?
So many unanswered questions
—
Why when I am at my lowest
I experience your love the most?
I search everywhere for you
But it is when I give up, I discover
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Glimpses of courage
An unveiling
Reality recognizable
Thank God I haven’t completely lost it
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Have the unanswered questions been accounted for?
Must one wait? Or is there a way?
If I search high and low
Will truth be exposed?
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I feel abandoned and weary
Tentative and guarded
How do I rid my ocean of fears?
Because only now I will admit
—
I first must learn to be
“Just let go,” I hear
A voice much like my own
Whispering, yet screaming
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Acceptance only possible
If paired with honesty
Still an underlying heartache
Apprehension, my conscience
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“NO!” I respond, “How could I?”
However, my needs won the war
The execution of my racing mind
An attempt at mere existence
—
You acknowledge the rain
You allow me to breathe
Another day of life passes
Yes, today could be my last
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Nothing more necessary than the process
And, oh, it is a process
Today, I will breathe
In hopes that tomorrow I will learn just to be.
The loss for words, amidst countless thoughts
Hardly alive; survival would be a miracle
Contemplation and comparison, introspection and debating
One’s soul lost in the chaos of it all
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Emotions numb to the ebb and flow of life’s sicknesses
Prevalent and apparent, an underwhelm of emotions
Fearful of what was once so fierce, now so sure and steady
Sadness and joy, laughter and tears all one in the same
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Fabricated dreams and perverse truths unveiled
Relationships begin to shatter
One gasps, “My entire reality is built on lies”
Blind trust exposed, resentment remains
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Through an agonizing strain, one finally “lets go”
Poisonous pride holds on ever so tightly
Devious self-love fights to its death
And with final breath, exhaustion is left
—
The battle is through
Hours, days, years conceded
One’s own presence absent
The sick world continues on
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The freedom from a governing grip
Everything once believed
No longer in existence
Lost evermore
—
No use in assuming
And no place for predicting
For the tiny seed of hope vanished in the desperation
All that is left is yet, but a choice.
—
Burdened by loneliness
Smothered in darkness
Left hopelessly awaiting
Awaiting some form of a conclusion
—
For only a moment
A deep, indescribable peace
The resolution sufficient
It is presence, the Spirit discovered.
