Lord, coming into this world is fire.
Living in its labyrinth is mystery.
Dying is to leave a book of ambitions unwritten, its pages blotted with red ink.
A rain of sorrow leaks
through the rusty roof of my house.
When will you send me a bucket
to gather the dripping water?
Like the buds of a flower aching
after tasting the rigidity of the sun—
I have limped with a stick
to the edge of the cliff,
wounded by the wilderness of struggle
Yet I do not want to be severed by ruin.
I do not want my dreams plucked unripe.
I have dragged my shattered self
to the shore of your limelight, Lord.
When will you send me a boat of relief?
When will you send me my guardian angel?
When will you cradle my burdens with your tender blessings?
So heartfelt and poetic. It captures the weight of life and the need for God’s comfort beautifully.
Yes, it does. How the weight of life presses us down!
Thanks for the engagement, ma’am.