The musical screech acts as the pleading prayer I could never quite articulate
the jazz moves around me and through me
I don't understand but I find profound clarity in the minutes that transform into moments
the album bares witness to the realization I never gave voice to
that I've only ever held the illusion of love
the impression of caring
but love isn't found when you're the other woman,
in addicts broken promises of next time or a summer love in the age of innocence before either of us were aware of ourselves or who we needed to become
true love isn't riddled with entitled expectations
it's given
it's a gift
when you begin expecting it, feeling ownership to it; over it
that's the same moment you begin to lose it
I believed I'd been neglected; abandoned, God's not given me the love I want
but inherently in the want it was wrong
and in the earnest it was flawed
all my examples are broken
and today I wondered if maybe, just maybe
He gave me so many broken spots so the Love,
both His and the one I await can be a salvation I can't fathom
today He filled all my gaps with the promise this won't last forever
that what awaits is greater
Through tear stained jazz gospels I felt healed
not by the removal of problems or broken pieces, because they will always exist
but by Hope
by Home
and by Love in due time.
<3