The Purpose-Driven Loss

Having in one life quadrant learned little and known better, my mind clings to bold declarations: “My next move could possibly be the end of you”. “I’m gonna find you and make you want me too” was the puffed out tween iteration. History seems to have proven that Ms. Hill was faking it just long enough to collect a Grammy in loc extensions and hysterics, begging the question, who made it? But I’m not gonna call on Ma’at, oh or woa. Life doesn’t respond to query but action. I’ve been learned just loathe to apply, fearful, complacent.

That was yesterday. Today I'm stuck on the 8:00 AM service for which I was predictably tardy (second offering late, not benediction late). Pastor, not mine--I'm in limbo since Dr. Forbes retired at Riverside--had us recall those instances where we were pushed out, fired, dumped, vanquished. No hands were raised or heads nodded 'cause it's just not that type of borough, in the same way that passers-by don't smile or speak. But then he suggested that if not for the shove, for the door hitting what the good lord split, we wouldn't move. Thanks to the push out, we can press on.