The words came out of me
I could not stop them
I tried holding them in
Pushing them down
Hiding them away
But they would not rest
They pushed and strained and twisted inside of me
Like a lion confined in a too small cage.
I tried to appease them
Feeding them with fantasy
Distracting them, fleetingly, with imagined freedom
But they would not stay satiated for long
They wanted, needed, to escape from the prison
into which I had forced them.
These words that came out of me.
I would find no peace until they were spoken,
this I knew.
Yet I held on as tightly as is humanly possible.
But one never wins,
in a tug of war with God.
We cannot fight it
All I could do was throw up my hands
And throw open my heart
God had willed it
and I had no choice but to obey.
The words came out of me,
and now I,
lie shattered in their wake.
These words tore a hole in my life
and in the life of another, and another.
Emotions and hopes and dreams flung violently in the air
Where they will land – for me – for all - I do not yet know.
I have fulfilled my part of the covenant.
I spoke the words
I lit the fuse, ignited the flame,
pushed the button marked “IMPLODE”
Now I must go about the messy business of picking up the pieces
And accept that, despite my wants, my wishes, my will,
I will not be building here.
The blueprints I held in my hands have crumbled to dust.
I am not the architect of this plan
I am just the button pusher
The one who blows apart what has fallen into disarray.
What is built in its place, is not up to me.
But I have to trust, that what is built,
will be beautiful indeed.
I spoke the words,
but they have not yet been fully released.
They hang in the silent space between their recipient and myself.
Tethered to my soul by guilt, regret, and remorse.
On occasion I stretch out my hands to try and snatch them back,
but they pass through my fingers like smoke dissolving in air.
I cannot take them back.
I cannot repair the damage, however necessary, that has been done.
I cannot ask the question,
Why did God WILL me to do this?
Why would God bring two together,
only to tear them apart?
Why does God require a walk through pain,
before finding joy?
I cannot ask these questions,
because I can never know the answers.
So instead I let them sit
And willfully endure the dull ache of grief
that is pressing against the inside of my skull,
rolling around in the pit of my stomach,
and begging for release
from the wounded heart that lies in my chest.
The words came out of me,
I could not stop them.
God pulled them from me.
Now I must trust,
have faith, have hope,
that God will fill the hole
that has been left behind.
That God will turn over the rubble,
and build a garden, or two, or three.
And the words that I spoke out of love,
will one day return,
and find their home in me.