Tonight as I chopped onions and made dinner my mind was flooded with thoughts. This is what came out:  

Feelings ooze out of this hard head. They drip onto soft cheeks. The onion releases it's gas in protest, As my eyes release fear like water. It threatens, Threatens to break my numb protective lining. Can I take back that prayer? The one that's lingered on my lips And fallen heavy on my back. The one whispered through lyrics but felt in every cell. "Take me deeper." No. No. I know the answer as deeply as I know the prayer. I don't want to take it back. I've seen what's produced in a soul that is pressed. Squeezed. Like grapes ripe for wine. I know what comes from a heart thrown in the furnace. Hardened as clay. Set and strong. I want that. I've tasted the presence of those beaten tender, Their gentle, melt-in-the-mouth spirits. I've been awed by those who have fallen, unable to get up in their own strength, learning the true value of another. The connectedness we share. I want that. I want nothing less than that. But I don't want what it takes to get there. That path of tenderizing. I don't want "one more thing." One more guillotine hanging over my head. One more boulder slowly rolling closer to the cliff. I've enough of that already. Don't I? Isn't it enough? Somehow I know it isn't. Not yet. Not as long as I'm asking that question. My heart has yet to be beaten tender. My eyes still look most often to myself. My soul still thinks it is unlike the others. Oh so much farther to go. So I take one more step. I look up at that cliff. I wave, "Hello boulder." And I keep walking. Bring it.

Rejoicing in the journey, Bethany