Eight (Written by Sarah Bennett)
I am so many dreams poured together,
Keeping me alive.
The wanting is woven into my name.
I am confusion and love and what is often called naïve
But is actually compassion.
I have been given grace so how can I not pass it on?
I am the drought that is quenched by being together.
I believe in being alone but am no stranger to loneliness,
My bones cry out to be pulled from this slumber.
There is so much of me that I did not choose for myself,
So much that even I cannot yet see,
So much that I want to achieve but may never reach.
Is there more of my past entwined in this voice,
Or more of a future that I know nothing of yet contains more hope than today?
I kneel besides the bathtub.
There I am at eight, able to fold my body so small beneath the water,
Able to hold my breath for as long as I wish to be a mermaid.
This is where I start.
To know me is to know her.
Lately my quiet times have turned into poems, which I love. There is something so innocent and clear about the poetry I write after spending time with God, after praying from the depths of my heart. It only reassures me how much of my creativity is connected to God.