The skeptical scientific me
who wonders if it’s a show
people putting their best selves forward
for me and thee?

The faithful me who chooses to believe
in resurrection and life after earth
the me who remembers rebirth
and the joy that rained in my heart?

The me that lets go and falls into love
of the greeters and door-openers
happy to see smiling faces
on a day with parted clouds above?

The me bruised
with the bumps of reality and loss
nailed daily by the boundaries I cross
forgetting prayer and missing cues?

I know something of the person I am
but which self in which place
I fall into isn’t in a program.
In my better moments that fickle self
stumbles and falls into grace.

10/08/2018

Author's Note: Lately I seem to have a cloud hanging over me. I stick my head out on occasion to let the sun shine on me, but it isn’t long before I am pulled back into that shadow self. I yearn for the self that knows joy and the inspiration sourced from the creator leading me to the crucible of my own creation. As I got ready for church I thought to myself that I get to choose which self I will be in. Maybe this work is a start.

Posted on 10/08/2018
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