Life’s not hard.
It’s bloated.
It’s rigged.

He wasn’t a fixer.
He didn’t always say the right thing.
But he tried. Even when all he had was, “I’ll pray for you.”

The grim reaper has your address.
It’s punched into his GPS.

It’s all true.
It’s all ridiculous.
It’s all saving my life.

Shame, guilt, self-punishment, abandonment, self-worth…

Shit was getting real.

It was a long week, but in the midst of it all, I found myself creatively restless