Who are you, Soul?
Are you the one never quite at home? Never quite finding the real belonging place?
You are, aren’t you?
The one who even among the dearest friends sits in self-imposed aloneness, owned by the fear of rejection and equally by the fear of acceptance.
Drawn to darkness, you find more comfort there than in the light you deem undeserved…undesired even sometimes. Living in a minor key, as notes of comfortable melancholy map out your history, the same chords play over and over on repeat as if to prove that while the depths of your desires may be colored in the beauty of great and mighty things, your mind and your body will always betray you with feet dug in the ground, refusing to go one single step further away from same ol’ same ol’.
Yes, Brokenness is my name and I am broken.
I am the one always seeking and not finding. The one who resides in a constant place of not enough-ness. The one who needs desperately to believe that there is more here than meets the eye…because there’s more to me than meets the eye. Please let there be more to me than meets the eye. This can’t be all there is.
Because I’m drowning on a daily basis underneath the doldrums of the day-to-day. Always falling short takes it toll. Being broken drains clarity and sometimes I can’t even remember my last coherent thought.
My dreaming mind sees a place where things are slower. A place where I can breathe. Where all the right words flow clear like water and all the wrong-said things go unsaid. A place where twirling whirling hoop skirts dance and there is laughter and rose gardens and I imagine myself as an artist standing under a shade tree spreading lines of color on canvas. Or I see a field of flowers bringing solitude and rest as I stare up at the night sky where little stars punch holes of light in the dark…much like the darkness of you, Soul. Where are the little holes of light punched into the darkness that is you? Because sometimes they are hard to see. And sometimes there are no stars at all.
My name is Brokenness and I am broken. But I hear there is One who changes names. He gives new names written on white stones and heals up all the hurts. He is the Light that punches holes in the dark.
Hold onto Him, Soul. He is good.