In response to WordPress’s daily prompt, and it’s also based off a conversation I had with Jake, about faith and anxiety.
Surely that was metaphor–you said;
all that talk of fire and breaking, of giving
everything even when you have nothing–
when you have been–run–ragged–by faith.
The look of horror on your face when I said–
no, this was no metaphor–this was–clay–and
a potter’s wheel–this was a life in ruins–and no
this wasn’t abnormal, I had grown up with this–
you held me as I talked about how my mind–screamed
at me–that I–could never–give–enough–that this–was
nothing–and would be–ripped–apart. You had no words
and–your silence–spoke–volumes–to your terror–of how
for so long I have–associated–faith–with uncompromising
and brutality and brokenness–and then it all–tumbled down–
and you were there–you saw the fall–and yet you’ve remained–
at my side–and sheltered me–beneath your silver wings.