I met truth while I was caught lying in bed with a lie. There I was comfortable in the bed I made full of lust, stuck in a daydream of who I thought I was. I didn’t have a care in the world before she came in. She didn’t have to speak a word: her presence alone slapped me in my face. I remember the initial feeling of panic. I was naked, exposed. Frantically, I reached for the light switch so I could return to the darkness, but it was nowhere in sight. Next, I began plotting ways I could murder her, silence her, and slit her throat, preventing her from ever uttering another word to me. I wanted to murder her with my words, but when I went to my file cabinet of insults, there was nothing on file to match her gansta. No platform strong or high enough to stand on to match her.
The pressure and the sting from her blow echoed deep in my soul. I felt parts of me that I didn’t even know existed. The fear sat on my chest crushing my ribcage and took my very breath away. I, for once, was speechless. I couldn’t talk or reason my way out of this. She knew everything, every detail, every secret. I cried. Truth didn’t break her stance or stare the entire time. She was bold. Fierce. Demanding an answer. Her silence rang so loudly—I never have heard anything more clearly in my lifetime this far. She was inside my heart—we were connected. I could feel. She planted a seed deep down in the wounded parts, past everything surface and superficial.
Suddenly a tear rolled down her cheek. Empathy. Her eyes spoke of understanding. She was my sister, my mother in this struggle. She gently extended her precious hand as if inviting me to safety, to her embrace. At first I was afraid, but her strength and sureness let me know she could be trusted. I grabbed her hand, and instantly we began running down a dark tunnel. The only way I could see my way through was by the bright light that illuminated around Truth’s presence. On each side of this tunnel were memories. Some I recalled, some I did not. I saw my parents, I saw myself implanted in my mother’s womb, and I saw myself exiting my mother’s birth canal. I saw myself living lies, but I recognized the lie like I had a new set of eyes. There was the thorn Kenya left in my flesh. There was pain. There was laughter. There was my son, and leaves falling.
Before I could fully comprehend the events that were taking place, Truth, still holding my hand tightly, hurled me back as if I were a football and with all her might propelled me forward. Deliverance. As I flew down the tunnel, I noticed a bright light drawing near. I wanted to scream, but the speed at which I was traveling wouldn’t allow time for it. As I neared the end of the dark canal, I managed to look back and get a glimpse of Truth. She was smiling and yelled, “Trust and Patience!”