jamie bonilla

i have high hopes for you, you know.

i haven't borne the feathered

weight of hope in a long time.

despair was heavier,

but easier somehow;

and resignation the easiest of all.

disengaged from a life

whose possibility seemed to have run out

some time ago.

i have big dreams,

and - yes - i've dreamed them before.

but they've stuck around,

and i want you to know:

i expect a lot from you, new year.

some live absent to the moment by giving their hearts

to a future of possibilities, staying there.

dreamers, they may be;

but they can't see the beauty of right now.

i, too, have been unable to see the beauty of now

but it's not because of dreaming

or living into a future hope

it's because i give up. every day.

i've lost heart.

but in these beginning days,

this newness that hasn't yet worn off,

i find myself awake, and longing

and hopeful.

my word is restore.

and it is both promise

and prayer.

i will be restored

to ways i was meant to be, to live

in this world.

maybe that means i get messier

(because God likes that about me).

maybe it means there is deep

healing of old wounds

older than you might imagine.

because he is not just restoring me

to "the girl i once was"

but

to "the girl i never was [allowed]

but was always meant to be"

this is deep shit.

i'm not expecting free sailing

to the restoration Promised Land.

i suspect it will get worse before