Darkness Is As Light

by Charissa Pereira

You’re too bright– and You’re hurting my eyes. 

I need to close them when You’re near and I can’t discern if it’s out of reverence, 

or self-preservation. 

The moving blacks in the backs of my eyelids are familiar to me and quiet. 

(Awaken)

They call me lower, 

(Sleeper)

beneath the ground. 

(Rise)

And it’s so tempting to crawl into the dirt–to swim below the soil,

where it’s dark and safe.

Where dead things are resurrected into verdant pines and dancing lilies.

Can I die here beneath the ground? 

So something beautiful can come from me?

(No)

Then can I hide here in the night? Please just let me fade here. 

(I won't)

Let me dilute into the blues and blacks of dusk and dust that I was made from.

Let me just fall back into the world. Back behind the veil.

I hold too much sin to be of any use to You. 

(My son)

I am not pure enough to touch You. 

I wear black to make my skin look less dirty.

Less stained from the paths I’ve chosen that have smeared tar across my heart

and left handprint-shaped bruises on my bones.

The shadow of death dances with me, refusing to let go of my waist.

I am not strong enough in Spirit to deny it.

(I am, but will you let me?)

This vessel is broken, and I can’t hold You.

You escape through leaks and holes that nothing seems to heal or mend.

I fall asleep to the fallen cacophony of echoes in my ears that taunt me about who I could have been.

(Lies)

Am I hearing You? Or is that me? Or is that him?

(It’s me)

Are you knocking for me? Or do you think someone else is behind that door?

(It’s always been for you)

Someone who’s done things so much better than I have.

Someone whose righteous hands have earned your warmth, 

Whose gospel sharing lips deserve the soft reward of your light.

(You are my reward)

If I crack open this door, will I fall to pieces?

(Here I am)

If I allow you a seat at this lonely table of one,

will you sit or will you run?

(I love you)

I’ll just keep my eyes on the ground which doesn’t scare me.

(My child)

Please don’t open this door any further.

(Where)

I might break–

(Are you?)

Open.