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letra de healing, pt. 2 - thelionhearted

southfield seems to split in two past pelham
like skin down both sides of a blade
like a marriage, like a friendship, like my community, the bridge support forcing
cars left or right, the way pain seems to require a response
in traffic at 40 mph, i used to miss that it’s just a one-way road—reuniting
as soon as it splits, a river passing around a boulder
the false choice hurt offers us: bury or burn, both
begetting more of the catalyst. hurt breeds hurt and leads us to more
i’ve buried it, sewn my wounds shut on my own, premature, still bl–dy
and full of debris. believing burial equated to forgiveness
i’ve gritted my t–th and forced the skin closed
like a fist, pushed the pain back in, my white-washed holiness
a fine enough needle, but the flesh always festered beneath
starved of air and churning upon itself. the thread never held
i’ve refused to admit the pain and denied i had a mat to pick up
when jesus bade me to walk. i’ve sat in the decay and called it clean
but denial never fixed the damage and wholeness was not something
i could will upon myself

i’ve shoved a torch into the hurt, too, determined
to wield it as a flame and burn down everything that caused it
retaliate my way to restoration, crucify my way to freedom
if i could just harm the harmers, if i could set the right person ablaze
tie them to the stake, throw them on the pyre of pain, i could salve the wounds
ease and end the suffering, but burning the world because it burned me
has never once set me free. harm rests on a scale that can’t
be balanced by human hands. i’ve refused to put the flame down, unwilling to part
with what i was certain made me righteous, but
suffering is not righteousness. harm is not a home
suffering is a step in the process, pain a part of the path
but neither is a foundation for anything but collapse

hurt is a revolver with endless chambers, the human condition
a mandatory game of roulette. i wrote once about brokenness coming in every shade
and it still does. sometimes, i see new colors. i bet you do, too
i’ve watched my friends tear each other apart, vicious and terrible and terrified
some sort of post-apocalyptic-revelation painting from a tormented
master, bodies broken and bending and breaking in horrifying, impossible shapes, eyes melted
towards heaven in desperation. i’ve watched myself join in, too, willingly or unwillingly complicit in so much of the evil that rends my soul. i’ve watched my loves bury their wounds only to find parts of themselves collapsing into the sink holes beneath when the hurt had hollowed them out
i’ve watched so many rush to crucify their oppressors, rush
to tear them apart, rush to only find themselves so deep in the carnage they’ve become what they sought to destroy. i know it hurts. the canyons and craters you bear
split deeper by the minute. they drill into your bones. they rage in every direction
they threaten to consume you. despair and heartbreak ache
cold and deafening and seem endless like superior
in december. the lake gapes like a black hole, like the pupils
of death itself. but i promise you, there is land on the other side
and god walks on water

it’s counter to everything you feel, everything you’ve been taught
everything that seems justified, everything you know
but to find life, you must lose it. if you bury your hurt, it will rot you
lay down your shovel. if you try to wield it
the blaze will consume everything around you, including yourself. extinguish the torch
open your hands and lay all of it bare before the father—the hurt, the pain, the betrayal
the failure, the loathing, the anguish. still as a cast
silent as a splint, lay yourself open on the altar
willful in your patience, make your heart known, and wait
healing is not obtained but received. it comes in stillness. lay yourself down
leave the wounds open. let the father have them, let him see them, let his love cleanse them
let him pour himself out upon you, his healing pulling the flesh gently back together in its time
stay still. if you move before you heal, you will only break again. i know it hurts. it burns against all you know, and everything in you begs to address the pain, but you’ll destroy yourself if you do, so stay still. leave your wounds open. let god’s healing come like the rain. let it fill you. stay still. you will be whole again. you will be whole again
a promise, sure as the rain, sure as the pain, sure as gravity, and surer still
guaranteed by the suffering servant when he gave his own life up, sure as the resurrection, sure as the hand extended, sure as the love given, sure as the love from which you cannot be separated. give yourself up. keep the wounds open. i know it hurts. he will heal you. stay still. you will be whole again

- thelionhearted

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