I always thought I couldn’t enter without getting struck by lightening.
Amidst all my courage, the journey was still frightening;
The door wasn’t locked, it never was.
I guess you left it that way so I would never get lost.
It had been so long since I brought you a song;
I was “busy” with my dung, though I knew it was wrong
My stomach tightened and my fears heightened because I thought I mightn’t be able to speak to you even with my fighting;
Fighting shame, fighting the demons that kept me from running back to you, fighting the voice in my head;
Fighting a fight that’s not a good one — of faith
But I’m here right? Without smoke oozing from my hair, without being struck by lightening, I’m here;
At the altar, before you — The Potter,
I had a speech filled jotter but right now I can’t find the “right words” to utter;
I have no bell to ring, and no song to sing that is fit to bring before a king that can rightly express how I feel.
Even if I kneel and my knees peel, even if I pay a bill or take a pill against my will,
None of that is fit to bring before a King.
I’m stark because I’ve stayed too long in the dark.
I heard you, I heard you call me daughter;
I heard you call me back, I just thought it was wack because with a fat hammer I broke your heart.
I heard you, from where you sat, say to me to come boldly and not like a rat; to stop being a Jack and that the mercy I needed I would not lack.
I heard you, I heard you call me daughter
And so with salty water on my checks and the source hotter
This is me saying “I’M SORRY”
I’m sorry for cashing out on you when I had the opportunity,
I’m sorry for even having such audacity.
I’m sorry for being in a hurry to let people “see me”;
Yes, I wanted them to see ME but now see me…
I’m sorry for climbing over the mountains I needed you to move.
I’m sorry for trying to swim across the waters I needed you to part.
I’m sorry I was mad at you and not at the situation;
I’m sorry for thinking by my own strength I could build the promised nation.
I’m sorry for not staying put in the travail; when the birth pangs began. I’m sorry for not praying till I prevailed.
I’m sorry for saying things that contradicted my prayers.
I’m sorry for prayers that contradicted the words of my heart.
I’m sorry for not being patient to the workings of YOUR spirit.
I’m sorry for not trusting the process; I got obsessed with trying to posses but look now its just a whole mess.
I’m sorry for the time wasted and the forbidden tasted.
I’m sorry for rebuilding burnt bridges, opening covered ridges, tasting “other” fishes, wanting heathen riches and trespassing pitches which made me end up in ditches with so many stitches.
I’m sorry for not waiting for your answer on the other end of the prayer call before hanging up on you.
I’m sorry for laying my edges and not my crowns.
And most importantly, I’m sorry for being sorry because if I did a little more kneeling I wouldn’t have succumbed to my feelings;
My pride wouldn’t have reached the ceiling and from my body my flesh would have received some more peeling.
If I did a little more kneeling then to the cross, I would have been leaning to find healing from the milling and tilling in the dealing.
But the door wasn’t locked, it never was.
Now I’m sure you left it that way so I would never get lost;
That exactly is the message of the Cross.
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