Just when you think you’re going to collapse,
and get swallowed into the abyss:
You fall into God’s arms.
When you think life is too much,
and you’re surrounded by darkness,
and the world becomes small,
God enlarges it.
When it feels like you won’t make it,
and all you see is anger and fear,
and the world looks mean and barren,
God injects a million colors.
It’s in those moments when you realize God is always there:
He was there in the darkness, and He was there in the light;
He is the flame that eternally shines.
I didn’t realize how I much appreciated silence until my late twenties, after another mental health breakdown. A bad breakup had sent me running to another self-help group and, unknowingly, into a deeper search for God.
I was a mess in college.
Two years before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I had found myself at an expensive liberal arts university in Long Island, New York, with somewhat of a trajectory for life, and a moral compass, and many good qualities and strengths.
A few months ago, I began looking through my journals at old poems I had written. “Strange planet” has gone through several revisions over the past year or so, and this is where I’m at with it so far.