Monday, July 4, 2011

One Hundred and Apologies

The Facts:
  • This is my 100th blog post on To Be Real.
  • I first began blogging on July 4th, 2006.
  • So it's a double celebration!
  • However, I don't have some big, beautiful post planned.
  • Instead, I'm just going to go with the flow.
  • Also, I like lists. I need to do this more often.

I keep seeing ideas--thoughts materialize--
and certain substances that tear through reality
and scream through the night.
Is this how chaos feels? Instability?
Insecurity--my one downfall, always.
But I might make promises within my youth,
and be blessed from there on until
I realize the margins of such a gift, and requirements,
and the laws of physics start to adjust accordingly.
But otherwise, before I had known, my mind
would have been able to take to the stars
and touch the mist; the clouds; the air.
I stood in awe of lightning tonight,
and decided that God is real. He's real.
He's real. He's real. And such assurance
is enough to capture me completely--
it's enough for me to put my faith first
and pray to God, Please hold my hand!
There we'll stand--hand in hand--
safer than home and words and rain.
Safer than I had ever known before.


I know that I will never be important,
and that I understand.
Truly, it is no problem. Instead, it lies
within the concept of otherwise.
I'll call you darling, just this once,
[because I know it does not fit]
and then I'll say that I am not
the person that people expect.
I never am able to see my flaws
first, and act next. There's a delay.
And to you, well, you're family--
my supporter--and I fell short.
Oh God, I fell short again.
And how does that feel? It feels like this:
it feels like proof that I am not worthy
to be called a friend, or possess love
or kindness; instead, selfishness;
cruelty and a bit of ignorance.
And there was conviction--vividly,
but the moment before I felt its clutch
was that sincere second of satisfaction.
Satisfaction! Oh, it's disgusting.
I wish I knew. I wish I knew
how to separate myself from any moment
of my life spent on hurting another one
of God's children. One of my brothers.
I wish I knew words stronger than Sorry,
I wish I knew how to regain what's been lost--
a moment of doubt formed between us. It can't be undone.
And there was that evening when you had me admit
to it, and then asked me why, and I
searched for a reason; I found none.
The mere fact that there was not even an excuse
hurt my soul. I had no reason, good or bad.
I felt like I had betrayed a beautiful person
that otherwise, I see as a gift from my God.
Tonight, I can't sleep; my thoughts are singing apologies
and my words taste like dust.
I don't understand how forgiveness
has even the slightest possibility of reaching me,
because I truly am the most troubled and conflicted
and messed up individual ever known.
But I'll be here with you, for you,
and strive to overcome my flaws.
Jesus: hold my hand. Never let go.