a prayer in doubt
I woke this morning, and there was rain funneling down the metal hall. Half awake, I remember the medicine I took to make me sleep. Long talking story after children entered fantastic dream – a boat, a necklace found at the bottom of a lake, a talking Alligator on a hill – I made friends with a young girl who has same past as me, a rare one who knows the the identity battle between righteousness and whore.
Coffee cures the scratchy throat, the half-here, and I am a mother now in an apartment. My man left too early in a suit. I remember now that his tie brushed my face after a kiss in bed. An invisible part of me reached up and grabbed his shoulders, the spirit arms and fingers longer and stronger than the flesh, but eventually I let him go to work.
I don’t want to be a missionary today. I want my son to have a dog. I want to be normal, want to root down, want to hold together without dichotomy.
Jesus Christ, some days doubt strips me down harsh. I’m down to the bone here – risky, bare, addicted, always to something, always pouring a little sugar so I can taste.
We’re always leaking out of brokenness, not meant to be sealed, rather poured out. I see it everywhere – not many staying filled any better than I am.
Let today be the day you turn my little faith – miracle seeker at the party.
Water to Wine, Jesus. Let it be water to wine.