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3699;
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In Literature, Writing and Blogging 2 min read
Our Lady Of Contradictions
<p>Oh Forgive me, Father, for my heart is a crowded room.</p><p>I have let two men walk through the doors of my spirit, and I have handed both the keys to the tabernacle.</p><p>One is the morning sun, the kind that asks for nothing but my waking. He treats my skin like scripture, memorized and sacred. The other is a storm that breaks the stained glass. He does not wait for me to open the door, he reminds me I have no walls.</p><p>With both, I am safe. That is the cruelty of it.</p><p>The passion  awakened in me by one is fierce, almost sacrilegious, a heat that bends my body toward prayer without teaching me how to kneel. The other loves carefully, worshipping my edges with a tenderness that feels like devotion <a class="tc-blue external-link external-link external-link external-link external-link external-link" href="https://incarnate.He" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">incarnate.</a> <a class="tc-blue external-link external-link external-link external-link external-link external-link" href="https://incarnate.He" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">He </a> traces me as though I am the Trinity personified, a body made holy and profane all at once.</p><p><br/></p><p>One drinks my jaggedness like communion wine, kneeling to catch the spill as proof of his piety. The other traces it without prayer, tasting the salt and iron, whispering, “this is your only gospel.” One seeks to enshrine me; the other to feel me against the stone.</p><p><br/></p><p>They tell me I should choose. They look for red flags, for some rot in the wood that would make the decision easy. How do I tell them that I am not being hunted, I am being found? One finds the saint in me; the other finds the beast. And God help me, I am both.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I live in this heresy…against the wishes of the good book.</p><p>I am a girl who needs her altar to be worshipped by both—the saint and the beast. </p><p>My heart keeps time for two different hymns, playing a melody that has offended the very violin.</p><p><br/></p><p>If it is a sin to be whole only when I am divided, then let me be guilty.</p>

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Someone asked " what inspired you to write this?" I responded.“Truly, our heart damns us all.”

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