lately i cannot live a day without graceland or psalm 23. i cannot leave my brick walls too often from fear of how my fragile inner walls might collapse from attack. the world attacks with its spears and arrows and i am already down. i sit in this mighty fortress on 2nd street and clean and decorate and redecorate and build shelves and chests. and using all these tools makes me feel stronger in the midst of the weakest period of my life.
and what prompts these tears? these inner shakes that leave me curled up silently when no one is home? it is the unpacking of books and memories and riding my bicycle down the streets that used to be home. it is hate. it is reading the old notes and letters that were once the beginning of the rest of my life and then remembering they were all ruined with hate.
how can it be that this is how it ends? how little i planned the last few years, and what a mess i have made.
and so i recite, in the midst of the brink of so many tears that i am always balancing on, 'the L-RD is my shepherd, i shall not want'. i imagine the table he prepares for me as enemies scoff in my ear. i imagine what it might feel like to lie in green pastures, to sit beside quite waters, to fear no evil. because, dear L-RD, i fear the evil i have encountered. i fear it in the hollows of my ribs right down to where a mighty heart once beat.
all that has reduced me to these fragile bones reminds me to hope for the only thing that will satisfy. i need goodness and love to follow me, i need my head to be poured over in oil. i need to be hidden and kept so safe. in fact, i've never felt such a need for safety in my entire life.
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