Dark Space, Black Matter

Before the canvas of the world was painted, the earth was void, black, formless.

Intentionally kept dark for creation, for becoming, purpose was published from shadows, from an ink blanket of berth. This was good, part of the order of things.

So I allow the same for my soul. Sit in the unshapen, breathless; being. No push to rush away the restless, the flush of alone and feeling of being lost in charcoal soil. I am welcomed in ways I would never been had I not ventured into hovering waters, deep and endless and uncolored. Grappling with this way of being, hearing society slap me with a quick, happy fix that inadvertently accuses my faith. Light versus dark. Skin versus spirit. Righteousness versus sin. As if when one side exists, the other couldn’t possibly.

I have not been born to carry continuous happy bubbled within my chest. My burden is my blessing in the underbelly of life, where my tears find themselves falling down the skin of someone else, where my anchored heart magnetizes with the weight of theirs. Where I am constantly standing in line with the loose rise of moon, its face deep creviced and reflecting light in imitation.

Under the earth is dark space anyway, but I delve into the black, attempts to feel my way to fine.

I have always been more comfortable in the shadows than daylight. And I had buried it in shame, thinking something must be wrong with me that I sink into melancholy more than most. If I wasn’t shining joy from my countenance, then I wasn’t truly experiencing God’s goodness.

And so I sunk deeper into wondering what was wrong with the way I was wired, wracking my brain to find a solution to solve the unsettled. Attend church, find people to live life with, keep praying even when these spheres would not orbit well around my faith. I attempted to jam the pieces together with surface, always the smile and the “life is good but busy” bit. And if there was trouble and I let a few in to see the struggle of my heart, they point to sin and tell me to stick with Jesus. Because Lord knows, on my own I can create endless mess of what I meant to tame.



Read the rest of this piece over at ALTARWORK!


**Photo courtesy of ALTARWORK

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