For 29 years I’ve lived in a bomb shelter. Literally. Not literally, that was just for emphasis. Though I’m planning on hyperextending this metaphor to such an extent that you’ll wish it was literal.
The bomb threats were from unverified sources, but that didn’t matter, once I started listening for the ticking. I kept listening to that ticking until I had a tic; until I was a tick, sucking on the pumping blood of self-loathing. All because I was afraid of the abombination. Of being devoured by fire.
The sources of these threats – don’t misunderstand, I don’t blame them – I was one. It was safer underground. In the dark. When I was so alone – so alien – when it was so awful I could not abide anymore – I ran through the underground railroad until I ran into someone. We’d light a match, but it always burned out, and after awhile we’d wander back. But we were all free. We just didn’t know.
Then, a year ago, I began receiving love letters, handwritten on a paper so white it glowed. Every time my name was written, it was like my signature, but better; like a famous artist’s signature, which had intrinsic value regardless of where it was. I hoped they were from Him, but I doubted; I doubted. Still, they kept arriving.
The last one was an invitation. “I am requesting the honour of your presence, as yourself, as you were created.” I set it in front of me and stared at it. Each time I picked it up, expecting it to be addressed to someone else; expecting it to disappear. But it didn’t.
So I’m coming out of the ground. This is my coming out party. I feel like Lazarus, raised from the dead. You can drop a bomb on me, baby. But I’ll know it’s not from Him. I have the letters to prove it.
I love you so much.
(Read that however you will. It will be only be true.)
The above was going to be my response too, or similar anyway: Dang, I do love you Mr Parman!
Can’t wait to see you early in the new year (looking at end of January).
It is not an easy thing to treat with consideration those we do not fully understand. In this time of transition, I pray that others will treat you with dignity, and that you can respond in kind or even in ways that they cannot. Honesty and humility go far when traversing difficult territory, and approximating truth seems more accurate when allowing for multiple perspectives.
I somehow missed this one, but thought I had not, and now i am just sad i did not read it sooner.
this is haunting, beautiful and freeing all in one breath.
You will never experience such an epiphany again. And why would you try? When we discover what is at our core, the revelry should not last forever lest we wear out our own welcome. Cherish it. Hold it close, keep it safe.