the scariest place
for someone like me
is a space
to make mistakes
wide open fields of grace
and more than one way
to be right
it fills me with fear
to think
that I can be wrong
while I’m so sure
that I’m right
do I need to be right
or do I need to know truth
am I supposed to
take up my sword and fight
to the death but then
what am I defending anyway
the truth doesn’t need me
to defend it to keep it true
the truth sets me free
to choose
there are no rules
how can this be
the truth is not controlling
this place where I wander
this wide open space
there’s no choreography
no perfect pitch
no ladder to climb
no front of the line
it’s not about being good
or better or best
this place is called grace
this place of rest