The Hermit

Being a hermit 
helps.  
It helps with feeling overwhelm, 
for tucking far-too-much 
into a corral. 
Keeping it tame, 
appeased and quiet.  

It helps with holding 
back the angst, 
the rage of the world 
its broken bleeding heart. 
I can crouch alone 
and hold the hurt 
at a pace that 
​I can handle. 

Being a hermit 
allows me to breathe 
to catch the fleeting moment 
to be. 
I sink into 
a bubble of air 
where my existence 
(self constructed or not) 
need not scramble  
for justification.  
As a hermit 
the definition of who I am, 
the assumptions and expectations, 
quiet to 
two voices: 
mine, and God's. 

As a hermit 
I  lay my own voice down, 
confused and weary as it gets 
from trying to articulate 
on ever shifting waves.  
I close my eyes  
and listen. 
Listen! 
Rest, without any strength or courage of my own, 
as the voice of my God 
defines my existence.  
And then, 
when I am ready,  
I tuck that voice 
like a wrap around my heart 
and fling the door open 
to the blizzard and battle beyond.  
The hermit heads once more 
​into the world again.