Stainglass Lumber

Stripped up all the bark from the Bodhi tree the last week. Spiritual lumber. I'm rubbing excess mulch over my eyelids and forehead. Trying to open myself up. Trying to find that vestigial part of my flesh floating aimlessly down the Gagnes of my spine. Trying to find that part of me I lost last week, when the tempest arrived and I juggled my limbs out in the electrical-sail of the storm. When I held up my middle finger and trimmed my own limbs and shuffled tears in front of my own mom. When I fell down on tattered kneecaps, hunched over in supplication like a wounded question mark. When I asked her to save me.

Prayed ardently before work tonight that God would allow me to see him; see him not through the lenses of a terse feminine smile or a musical paragraph or an ATM slip or posh dental insurance. Prayed that I would only be allowed to see and be allowed to serve... That whatever trunks I sliced and axed from this emotional rainforest, I could use the pulp the lumber into epistles of praise and joy....what it feels like to be a human being...what it feels like merely to be..........