Maelstrom

I stand
At the epicenter
Of the cyclonic storms
Raging within me.

Winds howl and buffet -
Rain soaks me through -
Thunder rattles my bones.
Lightning illuminates the sky
With wild, vivid images
Of all that surges within me.

I stand as one lost,
Shivering,
In the cold.

Eyes shut,
I whisper through gritted teeth:
"Eli!"

"Child."

It is The Anointed,
Standing just outside
The eye of the tornado
I am standing in.

"Can you take away
Everything messing with me
From the inside out?"
I can taste the desperation
In my own voice.

"I cannot take it from you
By force.
You must give it up
Willingly."

"That's what I'm asking -"

"That's not what you're asking."
It is gentle,
But firm.
It is also true.

"Lord, I -"
I stop speaking,
And simply shake my head.

"I cannot take and heal
That which you will not
Give to Me,"
He reminds me.

I feel small and ashamed,
Perpetually tainted,
Perpetually on the run
From myself.

Spans of years
And a cross-country move
Haven't eliminated
This feeling of wrong-ness
Inside of me...
Everywhere I go,
There I am.

The gulf between
My external life
And internal life
Is narrowing,
Evidenced by
A growing restlessness and turbulence.

Ah, Lord,
You Who have calmed storms
On the open seas,
So too,
Do unto me!
The boat's filling fast,
And I do not wish
To perish!