The Rhythm of Mundane Liturgy | Rev. Dr. Krystal Leedy

On my worst days,
I forget what I sound like
I don’t know my own voice.
I look in the mirror 
And stare
I have never seen that stranger before.

On my worst days,
You are my enemy,
Your olive branch is a nightstick
Your words are 
Like dust
And I live in a ghost town
With a swinging door the only noise.

On my worst days,
It is cold outside
And my second toe on my left foot is bright
From all the blood
Going toward my heart
Just to keep it beating.

On my worst days,
I pray I am not numb,
I hope for a tear,
A flutter,
A furrowed brow
So I know I am still alive.

The song is always being sung.
The rhythm is always beckoning.
But still I choose the drone
Because the drone pays my bills
The drone is annoyingly steady.

I choose the white noise
Of doom scrolling
Awareness causing me to go numb
I care so much
And feel so helpless

It is only when a rhythm breaks my trance
When my eyes move to what my ears receive. 
When I am breathing to live
In abundance
And I am finally free.

On my best days,
I am human,
I am glorious,
I am kind.

On my best days,
I breathe fire to light candles
I sing songs into spatulas
I fly to the next task
I breathe in.

On my best days,
I can see you
I listen. 
I hold you in my arms.
And invite you to dance with me.

On my best days,
I can give and receive.
I author my own story.
Thoughts are like clouds.
I can hold all paradox.

On my best days,
Justice is my drink of choice.
And mercy is my cup.
I can keep time
And don’t want to at all.
I feel each step move through me.

And there are days somewhere in the middle
The every-days:
Where the bubbles from my dish-washing are rainbows
And the fabric of my quilt sings history
Where the trees are cheering in sign language
And I am a buoy for my friends,
Never sinking, but still being tossed a bit.

We call these days mundane,
And they are
Of the world, deeply human,
Dipping upward to the songs of angels,
As humans are prone to do.

The every-days drone
With stabilizing force
For a moving and changing lyric
Of creation.
Which is still twirling when I sleep
And my deep breathing joins the refrain.

I see the world in hues
Rather than binaries
My sight is synesthetic.
And there are moments of stillness.
And the every-day is redeemed
Like I am.

If you continue to play your toxic positivity at 120 decibels,
Let me dive down deep
Where the bass notes 
Fill my chest,
And my heartbeat wakes me up
To the liturgical rhythm
Of life.

---

©2023 Rev. Dr. Krystal Leedy
All rights reserved

---

---