There’s a part of me that believes any problem can be solved with enough words.
Sometimes folks tell me that I need to just listen and not try to fix everything. But I’m young, and I suffer the afflictions of youth — idealism, impulsiveness, impatience.
At once arrogant and humbled, frustrated and ridiculously hopeful, I stand on a tiny soapbox in the middle of nowhere and shout words to whoever will listen.
I want to fix it all, right now.
The injustice. The hurt. The ignorance. The sadness. I want to fix it all with my words.
You see, for years I lived behind so many locked doors, and now I want to unbolt every one. Not only unbolt — unhinge, dismantle, destroy. I want freedom, for all of us.
But as much as my restless heart aches to beat your doors down for you, some doorframes can only be splintered from the inside. If that’s true, I’ll be here on the other side waiting for you. (Impatiently.)
But if… if my words can help you, you can have them. You can have them all.
It’s the middle of the night but there are there are too many words swirling inside my head, too much hope swirling inside my heart and I can’t sleep.
The words of the Lord’s Prayer are burning on my lips — “Thy Kingdom come on earth…” but I don’t want to wait.
I’m wide awake.
[ image: randomwire ]
published September 25, 2013
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