Sometimes white isn't the purest color.
The dark spots on my shirt and the ink prints on my fingers as I left school on friday reminded me that I worked. I have a place to struggle.
Underneath a grey city bridge, the trash filled the lake with a rotten brown. My sister spoke words of life and joy while picking up the dank, dark, ruined things around us.
Dark faces and darker hair surrounds me as my spirit rises to a place I cannot speak of. I would, but I am not ready. Prepare me.
Open faces, spoken hearts, vulnerable admissions, and a reckless focus. Let today and tommorrow be enough- Lord- may my world not grow too big for my ability to love and may my love grow over and through all that I meet, face to face, life to life, here in the in between, in a spotted and speckled moment.
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