I will always be torn. I will never be completely content as long as I keep loving two side of the hemisphere. Number One: my primary for so long, my security, and then “the greatest gift I ever received.” That’s what I said in sixth grade. I dreamt about them being shot, being taken away, and then I realized that was my greatest fear. Number Two: the one I’ve grown to love and learn more about besides simply Twilight Zone and Hitchcock at nighttime. His son I named. And I was born with a traveler’s heart. I can’t be with one and be in shalom. Maybe I need to relearn how to live.
The empathetic hearts beats wildly and lives short. It doesn’t pace itself, but he lives right above the apartment of The Unnamed Beast. He isn’t frightening looking, but he’s as hard as a rock. His edges aren’t sharp, but he edges inside his space, but it really isn’t his. He subleases it with the gut without its permission, but the gut is a weeny and won’t kick him out. Who knows how long he’ll live there. But no one has really seen his face. He lives below the light, and he is frightened by it. We all find light in different places, but none of us can touch it. We can never be the sun, but we can try to be image-bearers, though that’s a heavy burden.