I’m falling over myself. Carrying is seamless when your back is built for that kind of thing. My spine aches. The curves that run through it ripple like a current. Begging to touch the shoreline. Falling short and washing back into the Dead Sea. How far can I sink? My knuckles scrape the bottom, I swear. The saltwater stings. I’ve been told to talk to Jesus, but I’m not sure if he wants to listen right now. What is worthiness, anyways? My voice echos down the hallway of the house I grew up in. The ghost of my old self haunts places I’m too afraid to see. And as the world takes, I give. Shaking palms once held me still and now I care for them as if they are holy. Bruises down my shoulders and back- I’ll stand straight again soon enough. -AMT ©️