Darkness Dweller

A poem about the journey from shame-based hiding to awe-based worship and how being aware of our fallen state is evidence of divine illumination.

Countless times I’ve collapsed at the cross’
timeless feet, wishful its towering shadow
would blot out moral failings. Depending
on cloud cover and a pre-existing
meteorologist trust issue, the
t-shaped dimmer is just a sticky note
slapped in the dirt. Capital ‘T’ for “Thanks,
come again” or “Try again later.”
In either case, I’ll keep crawling and collapsing,
and collapsing and crawling until the day
I understand (truly) my full-time role —
darkness dweller — can’t exist without light.
May I collapse at timeless feet; not sulk in
shadows, but revere your blinding glory.

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