i dream of justice.

I dream of justice, in the noblest of ways. I dream of justice when it looks like me. When it drips of what I want it to look like. I dream of justice when it is the faces that I want to touch, the wounds that I want to heal, the mouths that I want to feed. I dream of justice when it paints in my colors, when the hues match that of my heart, when I can look at it and say, “yes, this is justice.” I also take great pride in this.I walk around like its not something that’s already expected in being a follower of Christ, but like it is something particular of me. I label myself with signs that say “justice” instead of “Jesus.” If I were to be more sincere, my label would say, “Justice when I feel like it and how I want it.” I parade in my anger at people in the pornography industry, I demonstrate my defiance at modern day slave owners, I am disgusted with men who exploit women and their sacred bodies and I will, mind you, let you know how I feel about all of this. I dream of justice. Or should I correct myself and say, I dream of myself. My voice, my opinion, my fist raised at injustice. He says, “Take heart, I have overcome this world.” He says, “You have been crucified with me, and it is no longer you who lives, but me, and the life in the flesh you live by faith in  ME, who loves you.” I am sorry for making this about me. I am taking off the “Justice” label today, and replacing it with some ONE beautiful.

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