I climbed this peak to try to hear from God.
Or to listen to my heart.
Or to get an answer from the Universe.
Not sure if the Universe is capable of answering.
I know that Life answers. Eventually.
Are Life and the Universe the same thing?
I know they aren't God.
I fully believe in God.
Not that he always answers, but he does speak.
I'm saying He although I believe God to be genderless.
Can't call God It can I?
In this world nothing worth respect is without gender.
And only men are given real respect.
Though they deserve it much less often than they're given it.
And they take it for granted.
So how to refer to God?
Is there a pronoun worthy of the Divine Creator?
I'd ask, but I've already referenced the more or less futility of that.
But hear I am.
Listening.
My heart has chanted the same phrases to me for a very long time.
I don't think it's to be trusted.
It's full of deceit and desperately wicked.
I'm sure I don't know it at all.
It is a discouraging organ.
And it seems its supplies of cortisol never run low.
It is heartache this and heartsick that.
My heart is always broken -
Which God calls blessed, for I will be comforted.
But my heart quit waiting for the fulfillment of that promise a long time ago.
I don't think I even know what comfort really is.
I used to think it was a total cleansing of the hurt.
A purging of pain and suffering.
The ability to forget it all...or at least, to understand the reasons for it.
Or maybe it was tied to another promise from God -
He will give you the desires of your heart..
Is that comfort?
To get what you wish for?
I wouldn't know.
I waited too long for that too.
My heart wants Everything and is too used to settling for whatever it can get.
I just turn it off at a certain point.
There's no use in nurturing these unattainable yearnings.
Still, sometimes I put out little feelers in the great unknown.
I tattoo "WISH FOR EVERYTHING" on my arm.
I pray.
I climb to the top of the world and wait.
Wait for the sky to open up.
For lightning to strike me.
For a moment of clarity.
I am Cool Hand Luke standing powerless in a storm.
And I am left with thoughts, silence and blank pages to try and fill.
(c) Tasha Cheney 2015