Wednesday, August 18, 2010


I am sick, sick, of no one understanding.
No one grasping the depth of my pain, no one realizing how much attention I need. Of no one rushing to love me in the wake of such an utterly selfish, immanently perilous statement.
No one understanding that my pain matters. It matters. It matters.
It matters.
My tears matter.
Every single one.
Every single breath: the ones hidden in quiet, the desperate ones I swallow so no one will hear, the long sighing lingering ones I wish someone would hear, the slow shuddering ones that starkly mark my aloneness, the gasping, tearing ones that no one ever hears. All those--someone should hear.

Everyone should be heard. Everyone should have someone who follows their every move, their every breath, who treasures every singe stupid, precious, priceless tear as if it was the blood of Heaven.

Every stumbling statement, every denial that is a secret cry for help.
Every cold shrug and achingly awkward expression--the flimsy but amazingly convincing proofs that I don't care, that it doesn't matter to me whether you care or not. I am so tired of no one knowing they only mean Please love me anyway, don't let me prove one more time that I am worth so little I can make you push me away with my own blank glance.

I am tired of the ones who should know not knowing.
Of the ones who have what I want not understanding enough to give it.
Of the ones who understand not having the chance in my heart or in years to offer it.

I am tired of no one knowing that my running is an invitation to pursuit. That my fight is a bleeding cry for embrace.
That the wretchedness I offer to your ears is the very best I have to give, the treasure of my heart, the pearls I've cast time after time after time after time into emptiness.
That although it is wretched it is beautiful because it is the most of me,
it is the chance to pierce the most secret place and shatter the lies and unlock the place of Beautiful.
The pearls I've thrown into nothing, which, altho pitiful and filthy with self, should be a higher sacrifice, offered to One who knows their worth.

I am tired of myself, of my obsession with the circles of my inability to break out of the madness. Bound by an unclear demand
that it all matters, that it should be given, that I am utterly at fault and utterly, inherently created to demand the impossible
and risk everything--reputation, dignity, self itself--on the chance of finding it.

I am too tired to do it again.
Yet I am weak enough to circle again if I could.
And I can't.

So I will throw my wretched pearls to a higher altar and say outrageous, audacious things to a God to Whom I have no right to raise my face.

And I will spend my life, such selfish hours as pain motivates, in pursuit of such a Love.
If I walk alone, I walk alone.
If I waste my name and my flimsy guards of presentability in hapless tries for lesser imitations along the way, so be it.
Because I am given an unsure Hope, a strongly, unlikely-felt surge that there will be no more desert circles like the last,
that this last desperate effort will win the Mirage of Solid Love.

Arms Wide Open, Misty Edwards


Anonymous said...

Beautiful, wonderful Ali: for what's it worth I care. You love deeply and you want others to love deeply, but not everyone is as deep as you are. Most don't understand that drive that we have to be loved AND to love well. Others have pain, but wont acknowledge the depths of it. But I KNOW that God has placed that drive in us not for pain's sake, but so that we may KNOW Him and the fellowship of His sufferings. That drive/ pain is the very thing that will take us into the kings chambers time and time again. And that drive will be what causes us to ask Him what he thinks of us. And He says that you are his princess and his daughter and His bride beautiful one. Beautiful one, a jewel in His crown. It would be easier if His love had physical arms and it should if the church was without spot or blemish, so until that time we go deeper to get our idenity from Him and Him alone. Because we have both discovered it can come from NO other place.

Zeph 3:17 The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing."

Heather Anne said...

Thank you for articulating what I have been strggling with, often without being aware. You, Ali, are such an amazing, bright light. I am grateful to know you. And love you.