“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.”
― Junot Díaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
I couldn’t tell at first what was happening
But I know now.
It was, in fact, an unraveling.
All I heard at the time was this creaking,
a letting go and tearing down of all I had built myself upon.
It wasn’t much, I know.
It came tumbling down like a deck of cards –
all with the tug of just one loose string.
What I had called fine silk,
delicate lace –
You called twine,
With a pull, it came to nothing in my hands.
If there had been a fire,
it would have set ablaze
If I had had a fire, I would have torched it myself.
But there was no fire.
Only wind whipping through these raw and open parts,
or She –
that great benevolence in the sky,
conspiring to do me good,
bidding me, peace – be still.
I couldn’t see it then,
as it all fell apart,
as that slight and lackluster tug
tore the whole thing asunder,
But I see it now.
They needed to pry the sordid pieces from my hands
In order to salvage what was left –
what was good
what was holy
In order to create this broken and beautiful tapestry
I now wear with pride.
So, I decided to follow my own deity
to bid air and soul be still
to call my own earthen form god.
Father, forgive me.
I knew what I was doing, but forgive me anyway.
I know it pained you to watch me stumbling and searching –
for something that was standing at my doorstep,
someone who was knocking at my door.
I thought maybe I could do it better –
find a home beyond this curse,
beyond this flesh, always too weak
beyond your expectations, always too high.
I had hoped to topple you and place myself on the throne.
I can finally be honest now.
Instead of drawing closer to you, showing my heart how much it needed you,
my heart conspired evil.
My mortal lacking made me flee.
Tell me it’s not too late.
Sing that lullaby to me again.
I promise to listen this time,
to humble myself as I ought.
Promise me you won’t stop knocking,
before I make it to the door.