flurry

something's amiss
it's simply out of order
even my fingers lay
listless on the keys
if they were to move
I worry they may be
brittle and crumble
for what's amiss
is deep in my soul
and that soul is
deeply connected
to every word that
escapes me no matter
the form, whether
spoken or written
or typed or sang
or whispered -
even thought of
I often feel lost in
who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and when lost I tend
to drift along hoping
for a flurry of the soul
for here I am
bewildered and left
to fend questions I
do not have answers to
and lost I find I'm
asked to hold a brave face
to appear indifferent
for emotion mixed with
confusion is surely
an uncommon taboo
and why oh why would
you possibly feel lost
in a world where you are
fortunate to have
access to anything simply
to make your dreams
come alive
and yet...
and yet I'm often lost
in who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and for now I'm out to see
if there's anything alive
inside of me and I will
drift along until I find
a flurry in my soul
that speaks deep truth
and love and justice
and mercy and understanding
and all of those things
our souls seem to gravitate
toward for somewhere
we must know truth
for it is built into the
unswerving beat of our hearts.

When I started school last fall I had just a smidgen of direction. I wondered how long it would take before things began narrowing into what I really felt like God wanted me to do with such a fancy little piece of paper. I'm sure as heck not doing it for the "oohs" and "ahhs" (or even the "what the heck does that degree even mean?"). I'm doing it because I'm passionate about justice. I'm passionate about doing justice through communication. I'm passionate about doing justice through my love of writing. That, I believe, is God's beautiful gift to me.

Of course through this season of discovering this passion of mine I feel a little part of me has died. Amidst the research I've been doing about injustice, the stories I've heard, the documentaries I've watched, and even reading some parts of the bible I've found my outlook on this world has dimmed. Honestly? It's probably for the best.

...But I miss the part of me that was unwaveringly optimistic. I miss the part of me that would wake up and never lack hope or faith in what this world could be (but never will be). That part of me, however, has been replaced with a firm belief that eventually, justice will be had. Eventually my life will have fulfilled a purpose greater than I can imagine - not because I want to be great, but because I want injustice to cease. I want justice for the woman who's been raped and birthed a child that will every.damn.day remind her of a horror she lives. I want justice for her child who will quite possibly be neglected and unloved for the sheer fact that he or she exists. I want justice for the little girl and woman that's beaten and drugged and "broken in" to become a prostitute and trafficked around the globe without even a glimmer of hope. I want justice for the slave. I want justice for the oppressed. These people have names and faces and horrific stories...somehow, some way, we must hear them and allow them resonate in our souls that we may do something to help.

No, I cannot fix everything. No, I may not be able to fix anything. Ever. That I understand. I cry for that. However, I will do what I can do and that is write, speak, educate, empower. I know now after a few months of even deeper searching and research that my field has narrowed - even slightly - to women. I don't know what that means. God does. I can rest in that. I also know that doing justice permeates the whole of my life. It is finishing a degree. It is writing. It is this silly, unknown little blog. It is the book I am writing. It is the research that I pour over and cry about. It is the daily goings on. It is drawing near to God.

A note of thanks to my big sister - the one that's known me the most consistently for the longest period of time in one particular place. Thank you for helping me see my soul and my heart in a beautiful, God-ordained way that I might have otherwise passed by. You are a gem (more than the server at the bar who poured us delicious beers...so much more). Love.