The Move

Letter to the reader

At 29, I find myself returning to Christ—not out of naivety, nor as a reaction to the world's pain, but with a clearer, wiser view of God, the church, and myself. This is a journey of rediscovering identity and embracing truth with open eyes.

To the beginning 
of a new world, 
a new life. 

Identity.

We must end the chapter of another.

A life once spent in
purpose and enjoyment.

Now?
Disdain & anguish fill us,
as we reflect 
on the years 
that shaped a character's role, 
never designed for us.

A better future,
A life worth the sacrifice of another. 
A phenix, 
Ashes, 
yet no cigarette was lit. 

The heart change 
is what burnt 
this bird's feathers.

Despisement and contempt,
for the hierarchical structure 
of organised religion,
somehow hurts 
the heart 
of the genuine. 

Yet what other building 
can be called on but that with steeples?

The heart confused, 
The heart heavy
& the mind tired,
Two bodies
yet one set of footprints. 

Sand of a beach
or desert storm?

Montage moments,
those that evoke emotions,
those that allow hope
into our hearts
& the warming of the promise 
off tomorrow, 
melts our cold rational reality.

Hollywood, 
Warm lighting, 
& the promise 
of a world better 
than the one we are a part of.

Satisfactory 
doesn't seem to satisfy 
the highlight reel 
we display.

Results, 
Transformations 
encouraged, 
as long as we see 
the ‘after’ picture 
on our screens.

Indulgence, 
Sugar 
and clothing alike. 
Improvements 
diminish bank accounts 
with years of work 
somehow invalid.

The story of success 
is only one to be adored 
when the pain 
is simply 
a sliver 
on the ingredients list.  

Why is it that in human nature 
we are so desperate 
to be connected 
to others 
yet so quick 
to isolate ourselves?


So quick to leave our friends 
and loved ones 
in their ‘role’ 
within our lives, 
Yet we are trying 
to move out off our own?

Identities fluid, 
yet what of consistency 
when genders are obsolete?

Who are we? 
Who am I? 
Do I link my soul 
to a being in the sky?

Or simply cry 
amongst the many 
whose hope 
Is of something behind a curtain?

Unreal, 
Unknown, 
yet the promise 
of hope 
is what allows 
humanity to become beautiful.

And after all I am only human.