Let Me Tell You

You poured out your soul
placed it at my feet
and begged me to take it away.

You got down on your hands and knees
hair tangled, skin dry
and pleading filled your eyes.

You told me you didn’t deserve to live,
didn’t deserve good things,
and didn’t deserve to be loved.

And you were right.

But neither did I.

None of us deserve the things we’re given.
None of us deserve to live and let live.
None of us deserve to wake up each morning.
None of us deserve the right to be speak.

And yet we’re given them,
we’re alive, we’re breathing,
we wake up all the same,
and we speak our minds.

I think that says something–
a lot.

If we don’t deserve it,
why do we have it?
How do we have it?
Where do we get it from?
Who do we get it from?

I wish I could tell you about my own darkness,
and how it got me here.
I wish I could tell you about my deepest fears,
and how they shape the me I am.
I wish I could tell you how much I cry,
the tears nobody ever hears.

And I wish I could tell you you’re loved,
and I wish you would believe it
because it’s true.
I wish I could somehow find the words
to say there’s more than living and dying.
I wish I was talented enough to let you know
the beauty of a kept promise.
I wish I was brave enough…

Ah, there’s the rub.

I’m a human, too.
I’m scared.
I’m afraid.
I’m fearful.
I’m… ordinary.

But even as I know I am weak,
I know God is strong.
I know He doesn’t give up on us.
I know He doesn’t break His promises.
I know He loves more than any of us could love.
I know He loves you.

if you come across this poem,
ask me about it.
Let’s talk.
You don’t have to believe me right away,
but I want to share my story,
beyond the memoir
beyond the classes
beyond the debates.
I want you to know the real me,
and see the God behind it all.
I want you to look past my insecurities
and see the God who,
despite all my horrid weaknesses,
fills me with His strength,
and is the reason I keep going.

I’m still alive.

You’re still alive.

And I don’t think that’s a coincidence.


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