Sometimes, in a glimpse, in a gasp, in a flicker of the eyes, I hunger for the world.
I want the dizzy nights, the empty bottles and rattling voices, the long way home with neon-lit romances and black pockets in my memory. I want to love fully, to love out, and then float away on a cloud when I don’t get love back; to live with no regrets and love the flesh that everyone sees. I want to be the coveted attention, the jeweled eyes and still lips. I want to throw plates, unclamp my tongue, and stir the air. My mouth yearns to curse, to make the crude laugh and the innocent squirm. I want to be the surprise, the unprepared for, but still in context. I want to fit into a drama, one of late-night superstition and swarming little dots. My heart yearns to hate and discriminate, to prioritize an inner circle and shut out the undeserving.
But what they say is not true. One taste and yet, you can still go back.
Back to simple truths, early mornings and the quick way home. Back to still moments, eyes closed, ready and waiting. Candlelit love with a heart that sits and stays. I remain part of a full body, with strong love in all directions and no need for a return. I’m chosen to be exposed, to taste regret in my mouth even when I’m washed clean. I want to be change, the kind that craves but bites the tongue and gathers up the flesh. I want real-talk and real gods. I want to be dependence, but not a hand on a human’s arm, nails in human flesh, eyes on their human words. I need a reality that is spiritual and I want to fit into it.
I need this, not that, not of, but in, and out, out of this world.
As it is Good Friday, be reminded of Jesus’s prayer about Christians, spoken on the eve of His crucifixion:
“…they do not belong to the world, just as I do not. I’m not asking You to take them out of the world but… As you sent me into the world, I am sending them into the world” (John 17: 14-18)
Photo Credit: Alister Rivas