2Disclaimer: I own this, please and thank you.
Never
A little musing on finding God
How long have you followed me? How long have you mirrored my every step and stumble? How long have you had the answers I've been searching for? How long?
Rarely can I find the strength to look at you, finding your looming shadow out of the corner of my eye too ominous to behold fully. That's why my steps often quicken when I can hear you, feel your hands on my waist, taste your tears in my mouth. How long have you mourned me? How long have you been desperate to have me, completely, within your grasp? How long have you missed me?
If there is anything I am sure of in this world, it is that I am a coward. More than once you have presented yourself to me, filling me with such deep, overflowing wisdom that the only way I can articulate a fragment of the knowledge is to cry it, and even then, my words come out tumbled and fractured. Perhaps I'm not made to tell your story, perhaps despite the gifts you crafted in my soul - like maps burned into my bones as old as your love - I am meant to remain silent on this one truth that has always been so close to forming actual words on my tongue, but has never actually manifested.
I wonder sometimes if you're ashamed of me, of the ways that I sin and my outright refusal to accept you into my heart. I wonder sometimes if you find me unworthy of your love, if I already have damned clawed across my forehead in black blood. I wonder sometimes if I should just give up, if I should throw my hands up and surrender to the impure rule of this world, the way hate drives my broken species more forcefully than the kinder hand of love. Sometimes, I wonder if submerging myself into the darkness would bring me relief, if finding a way to meld myself with the bones of my ancestors would bring me a sense of comfort and acceptance.
And every time I wonder, I can hear you, your twilight tinged breath just at my ear, whisper a single word to me that my mother made me swear me I wouldn't ever mutter.
"Never."
So you tell me, is this tragedy beautiful to you? Is every denial and slammed door in my face a part of your plan? What do you want to make me see? What is it? Just give me an answer, a damned inkling. Implant a notion of it within my brain, make me sob and scream until I'm so raw from the pain that it comes to me in an instant. Stamp it upon my soul - a bold reminder of what I always seem to forget. This maddening circle of a carousal without horses is draining me, exhausting me to the point where I don't even want to move forward anymore...where I don't have the strength to run anymore.
And that's exactly what you want, isn't it?
Because if I stop moving, the hands that I always pull away from can finally grip me, the arms that I've watched sway at your sides in your shadow can finally fold around me. You can finally kiss me and take me within you, you can finally fix every scar on my heart, on my soul, on my skin. You can finally have me.
And that's all we've both wanted for so long, isn't it?
For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm courageous enough to refer to you as You.
Suddenly, I'm not such a coward after all.