“I wish the I was eloquent with words. That I could be like one of those speakers that steps up on stage and
polka dots it,
and don’t do it for the fame.
They pop the question that
locks the idea in your head that
there’s more than just sentences filled with punctuation
they have the bravery to say the words I had left unsaid. And so what I’m trying to tell you is, before you ask who I am, I will say what I am not. I am not
a healer of all wounds
I am a beggar showing other beggars where to get bread.
Because you see, I have been through some of life’s miseries and I’m starving
on the daily
and this frail me
cannot sustain itself through fasting and keeping quiet;
this woman needs bread.
And though I’ve been offered many delicacies that looked delicious to these starving eyes, and pleasant to hold in these shaking hands, when I took my first bite,
The very food in my hand
as it crumbled to dust leaving ash in my mouth.
This woman needs bread.
And so for months I stumbled around. The things that I thought would sustain me,
they framed me,
and I became the poster child of what not to do and who not to be. I was shackled in irons, starving and tired, and in desperate need for my bread. And finally the day came for me when I was too weak to lift my head.
But I did have enough energy -enough bitterness- to sputter the words,
‘How .. could You .. do this to me?’
I thought it was the end.
And as I clung onto despair like my skin and tattered clothes clung to my bones,
And never have I so desperately wanted, needed, craved to see this last person I thought I ever wanted to know. And as He looked at my pitiful frame, He drew me to Him, broke the loaf with His nail pierced hands and said,
‘Here woman, starve no more. I offer you My bread.’ “