Stretching out for healing



I’m gonna be real honest here and say what needs to be said: lately, I haven’t really felt worth it, worthy or anywhere near Fort Worth

You see, I’ve screwed up a lot, so much sometimes I’m not even sure if I believe that my soul is worth saving, that there is really a Messiah who would ever call me daughter

These voices play their games inside my skull and do their snakish dances up and down my back, and I’ve only learned that to run fast might shake them off my skin, for a little while

I’ve been fighting this battle since that year in elementary when I learned that the way you feel about yourself shapes who you become and then becomes a locked away philosophy

I’ve been believing it, I’ll admit, not even a boy could change that and no book could teach or train me how to dig my way out of mountains of guilt or dress clothes of shame

I wear them almost every day in one way or another. They cling heavy to the deeper parts inside me and lead you all to believe that I know exactly what I’m doing, except for that one choice

The one that shattered an image I grew to hate, despise, I couldn’t even recognize the who or what I wanted to be. So so so perfect is no way to live and mirrors taught me to trust demons

Demons that crush, that quake the very fibers of a being made to be broken and downcast to discover that bones show right through her skin. I’ve been sick for so long and I feel it

Even when I say it isn’t so. I’ve been wandering for months cloaked in the filthy rags of lepers, knowing now what and who I need

There’s a man in the crowd and I think if I can reach out enough, just far enough to touch his coat, his pants, or even crawl to meet his shoes then that would make all the difference.


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