Uncertainty
Everyone knew. We sat in the pews And assured each other we were sure. So much certainty. Below the certainty was almost certainly fear. And we thought we were cruising toward God, But what if we were just chasing From the terror of not knowing? We all smiled and waved And we followed the rules of the road And we knew the GPS knew best. Some reckless drivers decided to exit, And we felt sad they didn’t know, like we knew. That they couldn’t trust the navigation. Why risk getting lost? Where else are you going to go? We were grateful for our guardrails. When we questioned (if we questioned) We realized we had just always known it was true. And we told each other we knew so many times That many of us believed we believed. I also wanted to believe. To know. To be certain. But the bigger my world became, the more my uncertainty grew. The off-ramp looked both alluring and terrifying. Drivers who exit will deny the road was ever worth it, they warned, And my own meager compass felt so small. But then the magic: Uncertainty flowed, And uncertainty created space, And within space, love. And in love was the possibility of everything. Until I soon discovered I wasn’t driving— I was flying.
