Saturday, January 4, 2014

Bleeding Hope

It's pulsing there beneath the surface, the words waiting to bleed out of me. But I press my hand over to stop the flow, because if I don't, I might drown in it - drown in my own bleeding words and fears. And I still don't know how to do it, how to rest, how to trust. This may be the most frightening place I've ever been. Not standing on the edge, but finding myself falling after having jumped right in and wondering if I'll crash on the jagged rocks below, or if the rip cord will do its job. One can only hope.
And that's when I realize that hope is more certain than anything else. I can't know how things will turn out, but I can always hope. I can't see into tomorrow or next month or next year, but I can always hope. It really is an anchor for for the fear-drowned soul. Maybe the goal isn't to stop the flow of blood, but just to bleed right, to bleed hope. 

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