Oh, the smallest light!

 No individual life is infinite

is put together by interiorized primary objects

likewise finite and with heavy weight upon their backs

we take those loads in with mother’s milk

and father’s scent and even envy

Our own bag is further heavier

by school, society, and culture

as we become an object of a point of view

which is limited

of many hues and shapes

we call reality

Adapt we learn to be a part of

although that which is expected and imposed

upon our child-like shoulders

is not the truth, it never is:

a reality whose producer is generations past

complex and biased

Where then is oneself left?

Is differentiation enough?

One needs to find one’s space and nest

to live and thrive again

As far back as I remember

I never felt comfort in other’s ways or customs

never a mask I’ve worn

although timidly, yes, I looked at life

discomfort felt

and for a long time comfort never felt did I

I have experienced some good-enough environments

but experienced darkness, violence, and sin

also

A year past or so

I came upon the gates of demarcation

and I begged for You to let me in

in into your heart of hearts

to abide within

doors locked

to experience calm and comfort

to abide in that tiny bitty light

I saw in darkest night

Your dawning

my hope and love