I Am Not Him

 Lost myself in the midst 

of the mayhem called my mind.

Carried up in a windstorm of word and thought.

"Who am I?" I ask myself,

trying to conjure something existential,

but crisis is what comes up, confusion.

When I couldn't find myself,

the only one left was You.

A name I could claim with clumsy confidence,

but I'll keep Him anonymous.

I stuck with this toy-train of thought, full of conviction.

"I AM!" I declare, "I AM!" 

I am simply sad, sick, and desperate for help.

All I wanted was to be more.

Family

 My strings tethered

tight to a violin

humming a familiar song.

I'm your strings attached

a forget-me-not,

a mousy ear of reason.

You are the violin,

I'm tethered tight to you.

You are familiar.

The Secrets You Will Keep

 My perspective of God is now, so vast,

my narrow mind, a thing of the past.

A singular view

sitting in this pew.

God isn't who I thought

-isn't who I was taught.

Scripture is seeing through the eye of a needle

into the past of Jesus-God and the steeple.

The fundamental secrets I keep

of a God so deep

are not the same

as the creator you claim.

The Almighty of Black and White is plain as day

-every single Sad and Happy shade of Gray.

 

How do I show you what I see

without your judgment passed on me?