Step

Running. Constantly running. Always from but never to. Going, gone, further, faster. No one can know. No one can see. Hide me, tie me up, burry me whatever it takes to keep it all from them. Secrets aren’t secrets if the world knows, and if people know, I’ll wish I was the secret being kept- Running. Constantly running.

Breathless, weary, no place can house my heavy heart. No pillow can catch my tired head. Too fragile for a family, too fearful to be a friend. What would I do, where would I go if they found out what a sinner I really am?

Out loud, I label myself a renegade, say I’m going against the grain. Fighting for something better. Lies. It’s a cover up, a mask, a mistake. I’m scared, lost, confused, ashamed and so tired from running. Best case, I stop breathing and my heart stops beating. I can’t keep running. Constantly running.

Instead, I step up the stairway to a new season. Words whispered, war waged, tangled thoughts... How could there be forgiveness for me? The unworthy one, the dirty one, overlooked, abused, so certain and so confused. I’ve traveled a great distance, covered the miles with speed and ease and these few steps are the ones that seem to matter most.

Fear floods in and it seems better to turn away, but my back has seen battle enough. Tears slip by my tired defense and I realize that for the first time, I am really being honest. My hand on the handle, I begin to turn the key. So fearful of what I may find, I take another step. Held breath, crumbling walls, closed eyes.... I can no longer carry the burden of the boulder that has been my constant companion.

I step in only to see that I am stepping out. I’ve spent years locked up and away, decorating a prison to look like paradise. Fresh air fills my burning lungs and beautiful light overtakes my view. My tattered and travel worn clothes have been replaced. The weight, I watch as it melts away in front of me. Behind me, a closed door and ahead an open invitation, an open bed- open arms.