I found myself
broken on the floor in tears.
I did not know what to do or where to go
who I had become.
So I asked
Rarely do I ask for much
I am more content to pursue intimacy
than to ask for things
brokenness makes you ask for things
I started asking
and I waited…
I listened until
I was frustrated with the silence
Just before I fell asleep, I lay there
with dried up eyes and I heard:
“I am not a genie. I am your God, and I love you. If you want strength, I am not just going to GIVE you strength. It will start to get really difficult now. Will you be strong in those times or not. I am not a genie; I am your God who loves you.”
Today you all will play
the roles I give you.
I am the author of your story
You may sit in my created scene,
but you will obey my back story.
Drink up and carry on,
but know I am writing you.
We will begin with you, Nerd Runner.
You are always here in runner’s gear and a new pile of boring books.
Self-proclaimed genius. Don’t get me wrong; you are smarter than me, no doubt, but you are not Shoeless Sage.
You are white-haired…looooooong white hair. No one can know the true length of your white hair because it is always pulled back in a pony tail. Each day you come in, remove your shoes, and sit “Indian-style” on a seat the rest of us have sat at one time.
Computer gamer who will never be too old for W.O.W. You pull off the sage look, but your bike helmet and posture indicate you are better known as beastslayer69. You would make Doc shake his head in disappointment.
You seem able to leave the craziness of medicine to enter the scene nearly every day wearing either full scrubs or that “Doctor Casual” look complete with cell phone belt holster.
Doctor of some alternative medicine that your internet diploma indicates. It is more than “alternative”; it is top-secret. We only know that you always look dapper and yet prepared for spontaneous surgery. You are likely in cahoots with Lois.
Your name really is Lois. I cannot even make satirical back story for you because your sweetness weakens me. You are always cuddled up in a chair (never a bench or booth) with whatever Michael Crichton novel you’re on to now.