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note to self: i’ll be there for you, always

written june 6, 2021. Photo by Kristine Cinate on Unsplash I have always looked for myself in other people. I think the idea was that they would somehow hold the pieces of me that I felt were missing. That maybe, if I wrapped my identity up in theirs enough, we would somehow make a whole person. It's not healthy to live like this, but I did it anyway — burning through relationships and searching for something I couldn't quite name. It was never enough, not to be myself, but it was never enough to latch my identity to other people, either. I got close, several times — I thought I had reached the pinnacle of self discovery. I thought I had completed myself. But in the end, relying on other people to help build yourself is never a viable way to do things. It's only recently that I've started to become comfortable with the idea of being enough, as I am, on my own. Several years ago, in this same position, I would have searched for another person to attach my identity onto,

and it was so {a poem}

The ocean pounds against the sand.
Restless.
Hopeful.
Longing.

Prompted by the wind, the trees clap their hands.
Carefree.
Hopeful.
Longing.

The clouds drift across the sky, subject to the breeze’s whims.
Submitted.
Hopeful.
Longing.

The wind dances through the grass, riffling the blades like a sea of green.
Playful.
Hopeful.
Longing.

Like a sea of glass, the lake waits.
Quiet.
Hopeful.
Longing.

Suddenly, it happens.
Let there be light.
And there was light.

Creation spills from His fingertips.
They all have waited long for this moment.
The trees.
The seas.
The breeze.

Come into being, He whispers.
And it was so.

His world comes to life.
A brilliant landscape, straight from the mind of the King.

The ocean pounds against the sand, beating in tandem with His heartbeat.
Rhythmic.
Vibrant.
Alive.

The trees clap their hands in addition to the ocean’s song, enthusiastic applause for their Maker.
Joyful.
Vibrant.
Alive.

The clouds drift through the sky, subject to the Creator’s whims.
Humble.
Vibrant.
Alive.

The wind dances through the grass, riffling through the blades like a green sea bowing in adoration.
Worshipful.
Vibrant.
Alive.

Like a sea of glass, the lake waits to reflect His image.
Peaceful.
Vibrant.
Alive.

Slowly, it happens.
God saw it, and it was good.
Creation begins to sing.
They have waited long for this moment.
The trees.
The seas.
The breeze.

My delight is in you, He whispers.
And it was so.

Comments

  1. "Prompted by the wind, the trees clap their hands.
    Carefree.
    Hopeful.
    Longing."

    Mm. I love it.

    ReplyDelete

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