It feels like I'm holding my breath.
I am light as the air that I stow,
floating away with thoughts of you.
I am scared of the fall
which inevitably accompanies
the exhale...
yet I simultaneously long for
the sigh of relief.
I hold in feelings tightly.
If I open my mouth to exhale the thoughts of my heart,
will I feel that relief?
Or will I find that all this time
I have been underwater,
and the exhale shall be my demise?
And is the risk,
the possibility of release
and relief,
great enough to outweigh
the risk of opposition?
Our own resistance is still a mystery to me, a part of the process I have yet to understand. Perhaps part of our time here must be spent choosing to do the hard thing, much like Christ did.
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