Earlier today I saw a security guard reading a thin book.

He was sitting in the shade on a pile of rocks.

He looked up from his book and greeted me with a smile and a wave.

I bent down slightly and twisted my head in an obvious attempt to read the cover of whatever it was he was reading.

It just said, Jesus.

I started crying.

And couldn’t stop.

Jesus.

There are times I feel as though I’m being ripped apart then quickly reassembled, it can happen once a day or once in a week, usually the effects are emotional.

But if it happens twice in a day, if I see or experience something profound enough to provoke in me tears.

Then I need time, to adjust.

To calcify.

Ray LaMontange says in his song “Hold you in my arms” that,

Love is a poor man’s food.

While I’m starting to think, faith is a poor man’s anaesthetic.

https://open.spotify.com/track/1U1GtaJeYwGsPgqV9Me5bb?si=pyP3WSKNRAmekJrQH8fi8g