Its the last day of February (the month of LUUV...and incidentally the shortest month of the year. Coincidence? I think NOT!) and I am at a church (shall remain nameless) in Baldwinsville, in a store front, with my sister. Nice people. There is an old dude with a teal do-rag rocking out on an electric acoustic guitar set to stun. He's got some serious distortion going on. There are more people on stage than in the audience; total :18. Strangely, I'm not uncomfortable. I'm more detached than anything.
This expression of church/faith strikes me as largely innocuous. Not too effective, but certainly harmless. And I am maintaining a distance. I am a safe distance-aholic.
While the worship was gargle, rinse, repeating, I sat down to write, trying to engage God in some meaningful way...for me. I wrote this poem of sorts (as poemy as I get).
Is it broken?
Or am I?
I keep searching, but with less vehemence
The fight has gone out of me....or has it?
I seek a touchstone to
That which has gone dormant
Does it exist?
Or is that fever a sign of sickness,
And all I know of passion just
I know there is mystery in the unknown vastness of God
All the doors I have been shown to get out into that vastness
Have proved doors to:
Rooms with yellow wall paper
Classrooms with teachers who have never experienced the vastness trying to tell me about it.
I want the real deal.
I can't believe what I used to, because
The people who ushered me into the cell tried to tell me
The cell was the whole world.
I know that's a lie.
And I don't have to pretend it isn't anymore.
I know the difference between God and prison cell.
I choose to BELIEVE
Even though all that has been presented to me as THE ANSWER
Has been proven
You are not false.
And you are good.
I stumble through the hall of doors,
Looking for the way out.
I don't trust any of my old guides...
I'm so critical of the counterfeit, I worry I'll miss the truth.
But I know
KNOW the difference
TRUTH and Counterfeit
I trust my heart.
I trust that within me, that knows.
I will not settle for lies.
I haven't seen it yet
But I'll know it when I do.
I trust that I will not wander forever
In this dim wasteland of doors.
The right exit will show itself,
And I'll walk through with no hesitation.
Over the lintel it will say:
All who wander are not lost.