My eyes crack open.
So does my heart.
Another day, another struggle,
closes the cracks back.
So much is broken.
Empathy is overwhelmed.
Person after person demands,
“Look at me! Give me what I want.”
The cracks remain shut.
Until enough energy is built up
and they open once again.
I wrote this last night as the weariness of this world crept over me. I’m not sure if I can give a clear enough description to explain how I feel the stress of the world around me.
People who don’t know me may assume I’m aloof and uncaring because I’m wary of jumping in to heal every need I come across. Those who know me a little bit may assume I’m negative, because I have a tendency to be frustrated with my own dissonance between how I know I should be and how I am, and this frustration extends outward to the dissonance I see in the world around me.
People who know me, and I can probably count those people off on a single hand, see how much I feel the world, see the cracks, and am overwhelmed by the experience. I point out the cracks because I need to tell myself, “Yes, they are there.” I withdraw from crowds because the sheer weight of an abundance of human personality presses in on me – not infrequently this pressure triggers a “flight or fight” response which has taken years master. I hurt and hide because I want to be part of the healing this world needs, but the issues which we are facing as a society are so huge I collapse inward at the site of them. In my mind I can process. In my mind I can find the words to recenter my spirit. In my mind I can dare to dream, even when the stress of life is sapping the energy of my soul. This is who I am.
But the irony of my existence is this, even though I see the cracks of this world, and reel from them, the only thing I have to offer this world are my cracks.
The cracks in my eyelids which help me see.
The cracks in my psyche which demand a creative outlet.
The cracks in my heart which fill me with sorrow and longing.
The cracks in my soul which bestow upon me the most painful gift of all, compassion.
I don’t need less cracks in my life. In fact, I need more. Enough so my very being collapses into my Savior, making me whole.