Behind the wheel of victim hood, I reveled in the wild circles of tires that smelt of burnt rubber. Like a drunk driver who has lost control, my discomfort and sorrow impaired me. The familiarity of this circumstance broke down every defense.
I lashed out at my enemies and cried the tears of many. I obsessed over the pain, refusing to lick my wounds so that I could feel every knife to the back, every bullet to the brain.
I wouldn’t allow a hug, or a sign of comfort because I needed to know my rage. My breath was full of the toxicity of unforgiveness.
Being booked into the jail of betrayal, I looked in the mirror, turned off the lights, held the shame of my thoughts and covered my self in silence. In my cell, I listened to fear and agreed with its confidence. I would not give in and allow this hurt to pass. And then God said; “The joy you’ve lost is only gone because you let it go. Who are you to choose your scars over me?”
My body wanted to deny the accusation, but my mind knows better. Before the judge of love and life everlasting, I dare not disobey. The problem with me maybe you, but I cannot bow my head to the blood pouring from my heart. I will not worship my own suffering. I will walk free in a new ride, fresh wind and a clean record.
#idasangel