Desiderata

Something to chew on....

Answer Her, Lord.

I am seated in the corner of my room, surrounded by a deep darkness… a darkness of soul and body. I am failing to comprehend how a God many refer to as being Father, Friend may be so heartless, and so distant when needed…

How is it possible that you choose to stand by while one person you claim to be your child, gets wounded, hurt and bruised? Does your love not hear or sense their cry for help? Are you suddenly too busy to notice, too busy to care?

All I ever wanted was some reassurance, to know that you are near… but it seems the more I asked, the further you stepped away… you just left nothing but empty pieces of a broken heart, all because you chose to stand by and watch me burn!

Each time I cried to you, it almost felt as if you turned a deaf ear to my cry, and you chose to cover your face because the sight of soaking face seemed to displease you…

My entire life has been a torment, a torture- I can only look at what I want from the lenses of others. In all these, I begged, pled and entreated you to take it all away, but no! You just stood still, silently still.

They said I should keep trusting you, that you are there in the storm… honestly, is it so hard to just pop out your little finger as a means of reassuring a despondent child that you are there? I tried to tell them that what I needed was not their empty words of encouragement; what I needed was Him! But He never came through. So I am here wondering what was meant by ‘seek and you shall find’ because I have been seeking alright, He just chose not to be found!

And so my pain, anger, confusions, emptiness carry on, while you just watch!

I try to exercise faith and lean on forlorn hope. I get up and try to believe that you still care. I push myself to the altar, hoping that this time I will find you. Staggering, I carry myself, with a glimmering faith… but like a little child whose father keeps breaking promises to, my heart is wounded again! It seems the more I try, the more you walk away, and bombard me with more hurt. Tears are definitely my language, and I hope the sight of my little face makes you happy!

So tell me, what did I do wrong that you hide your face from me? Are all my ‘am sorry’s’ not good enough? Should I cut myself, go on a pilgrimage just to show my remorse? Carest thou not that I perish? Do you not see my tears? Why do my pleas for help seem to fall on deaf ears? Why do requests seem to go unattended?

I stare in the blue sky, and ask myself where I got the idea that you are looking down on me, because honestly, blue sky is all I see… and feel!