Falling Out Of Place

What does it feel like 
to know the ground firm beneath your feet 
might fall out from under you 
at any moment? 
It is all terror and mystery and somehow, 
an adrenaline rush and 
oh-so-mesmerizing all at once. 
Because you see, once you begin
to ask the questions 
that could change everything, 
it is impossible to go back;
It is impossible to stop asking. 

You might hear a little voice 
tugging at somewhere inside of you – 
maybe near the back of your chest 
or is it that one corner of your eye 
that has been twitching lately –
begging you to just let the questions 
roll off the soft edges of your shoulders, 
fall in a neat little pile again, untouched 
and not bothering you or anyone else 
in your tribe, so all of you can
just settle your brows and 
breathe again. 
But the thing no one seems to realize 
is that you are only 
just beginning to learn 
how to breathe at full capacity 
for the first time. 
No longer constricted, like some caged prize, 
bred and trained to follow the rules,
stay predictable; impress.

But there never was a cage,
not really.
You learn this once you begin 
to ask the questions, the ones
that remove the edges you once knew.
And you are finally wild and free, 
incredibly light and yet, 
still heavy.

Because now, they have lost interest in you. 
They shake their heads and offer their prayers 
and condolences for what you are going through. 
Their words are meant to pull you back (if we are being kind), 
but they only push you farther down 
this existential rabbit trail; 
the surface quality of their polite conversation 
has never been so apparent, 
has never made your gut 
feel so pitted before.

And here is the next question:
Do you stay? With this tribe? 
The one that has taught you 
what belonging means 
(and now, what exile might feel like). 
Do you hush up, behave and tip-toe 
around the questions? 
Or do you allow them to drive this holy 
discontent, this wonderment 
that there must be more
here, in the shadows, 
where you were once told never to venture
(unless it was to proselytize 
some poor lost soul)

But what if the shadow is your own?

What if it is your own soul that needs saving?

Or what if grace is wider than anything 
you have ever experienced 
within the walls of a steepled building?

What if the questions are where grace is found, 

because

here we are
looking squarely at how much 
we don’t know and finding something 
bigger and more beautiful 
in what we can never fully name or understand.

And here, in this holy curiosity
is where we learn to turn,
look at another 
and claim them as sister or brother, 
because you can’t really lose your tribe 
when we all share the name:

“human”.