from the start

i've been a sinner as long as i can remember.
my sins are my chains.
no matter how hard i try,
their noise keeps me awake.

i've stood still and for awhile i forgot about them.
no noise, no pull.
i felt alright and normal.
i read books, i lived and forgot.

then i moved.
they pulled harder, their grasp hadn't weakened.
they were stronger then before,
the shackles dug into my ankles.

i packed the wounds full of dirt.
it was the only thing around.
i was in the dirt, becoming the ground.
the dirt filled my cuts and subdued the pain.

i walk, slowly i walk towards the fountain.
i can see it, i can smell it.
its tangible.
the closer i get to it the further it is away.

i'm no longer held by chains,
the dirt has grown around me.
it has become the chains.
i can't walk out of this.

some days the fountain is brighter,
other days its invisible.

i can hear others around me,
but they, like the fountain, shift in and out of focus.

i heard someone scream "this way!!"
i couldn't make out which direction it was,
but i ran nonetheless.

the dirt grew up around my calves
and slowly penetrated through my skin.
it shot thoughts through my brain.
it was all i could do to focus on the voice.

i found the edge.
my legs bloodied, my arms withered
and my soul worn.
i jumped.
i landed.

i was somewhere totally different.
everyone around me was stained with dirt.
all our wounds were apparent,
but we hugged each other still.

by our touch, we were brushing off the dirt.
some were dirtier than others,
but the love was the same.
this was the stream.
a stream to the fountain.

it was beautiful.
there were songs,
there were hugs,
there was honesty.

we didn't deny the fact that we were covered in mud.
we didn't embrace it either.
we shared our experiences
and prayed.

we danced in the water
and felt its cooling touch wash away our dirt.

that was then,
and this is......
well this is now.

the dirt never left.
i can walk easier,
but its still around.
the chains are slowly fastening.
the fountain is still flowing.

the dirt will never leave.
till the day that fountain bursts,
the dirt will have its hold on us.
on me.

it is up to me to walk to that stream.
friends help, but ultimately this is my choice.
i have to walk and pray that i can be forgiven.
and with that grace, i can wash away my dirt.
i can cleanse my filthy wounds.
i can quench my thirst.

.forgiven&forgotten.

-Lnk-