I got back in yesterday.
I don’t know why I stopped for a while.
I forgot how good it feels.
It’s like going home.
I breathe the fullest under there.
I feel my strongest.
When I get out, I walk taller.
I’m softer, kinder; I think in a line.
Everything makes sense.
All the dark stuff and the dark people, they become just a bad dream; I’m safe.
I can relax.
Getting back in allowed me to do what I did last night;
I brought people back inside themselves and then inside someone else.
I beat myself up for not being my best self sometimes,
For falling into insecure judgment and immature action.
But, if I keep shaming myself for a momentary lapse,
I’ll never get back in like I did yesterday.
My heart is pure, but I’m not, not all the time: who is?
As I somersaulted at the ledge, I remembered:
It’s ok to channel the sacred and the sacrilege.
It doesn’t make me a phony or fake,
It makes me a deliberate, complicated mistake.
See, that’s how he made me and that’s how he made you.
That’s the challenge of it:
To get back in after we’ve gotten out for a while.