Identity

What was put inside of me?

I keep going to God and asking, “Who is this?”

This woman you’ve created.

I’ve seen my gifts, and I thought they were curses. But we all know you cannot rise from the dead.

I put the concrete road to my ear, in hopes that the stone would translate something new, but all I heard was silence.

The slow tapping of my own heartbeat, my breath hazy with remembrance. Nothing has ever been still.

I sit in the presence of the night sky asking myself, “who is this,” but I don’t have the answers to my own question.

I keep waiting for the bridge to connect the pieces together. The pieces lost of me aren’t gone from memory, but they feel gone spatially. My heart beats for them.

I am becoming new.

There was so much that I was imagining and it’s a symphony now.

I can see it now, the fullness of it all.

I never thought I would be here, but I see that this is the necessary pain to bring my gifts OUT.

To extract them from my body and pull them into this world.

The spirits that surround me have been waiting. God is in agreement. That we all belong together. That there is no separation.

Religion created the division but it was never there to begin with. Now that I am back, where do I call home?

I had a dream I was floating on a small wooden boat in the middle of the ocean and under the night sky, I asked, “who is this”?

The things that were put inside of me to know deeply, to teach, to mirror, to explain, to pronounce, to write, to give - they envelop a world very different from this one. A world not quite visible to the naked eye, but it is the only world I know so clearly and my god, I am coming home.

Home.

Carrying Malachi, I said many times, “I want to go home,” the words pouring from my lips and making space between me and whatever existed in that moment.

I want to go home, not realizing that what I truly meant was, “I want me. I want to belong inside of me.”

But I keep going to God and asking, “Who is this?”