Beaten

I thought this fight was over
What else is it you want?
The days are slowly dying
And I'm trying to hold on
'Cause my strength, it's draining out of me
My skin is bitter cold
My back is bleeding by the knife
That you dare not let go

You feed upon my broken soul
You've made me insecure
I see the glares, the smirks, your eyes
These sights, I can't endure
And yet I choose to face you now
Surrounded by your friends
To let you take what's left of me
And bash the bitter ends

My cheek is red and burning
But God's tears will heal it soon
My face is slowly turning
You may slap the other, too

'Cause you can hit me all you want
You may spit upon my face
But in the end, maybe you'll see

That all the shit
you do to me

Won't make you any stronger.

November's Prayer

The sight of a blank sheet of paper always soothes me, as if this whole new world is open before me and I have complete control over everything within.

The sun on this chilly, fall day warms my face as I look out on the lake, shimmering in the golden light. My brain can finally breathe and my heart can lift itself up from the darkened trenches of my soul that I am afraid of opening to the world.

Sometimes depression seeps through my body as if a sudden tidal wave of doubt, fear, guilt, frustration, and anger has poured over my whole body, forcing me to drown and forget myself. It is a very scary thing that occurs every so often.

Being outside, however, where only the sounds of nature tickle my eardrums, I can remind myself of God's true being. He loves me unconditionally. He does not judge, but holds me as I weep and rejoices as I laugh. God is in this world. This fallen, broken, dirty, plastic world. He is here right next to me, but it has been forever since I have physically felt him.

I wish to feel him again.

To feel those pulls on my heart, to feel that peace, that joy jumping and lingering in my soul.

But maybe God is this wind and maybe I feel him constantly. He is the world itself, leading me along under his protection, comfort, and strength.

So whom shall I fear?

I wish I could say no one, but that has never been the case. I fear my future. I fear the church. I fear my friends for many have betrayed me. I fear the rips and searing pains that will tear through my skin and into my heart in the months or years to come. I fear this ever too often depression and I fear the body of Fear itself.

So where can I meet God in this? Through prayer? What if I'm not focused? What if He's not listening? In the sun? I cannot look at the sun. I cannot even meet the eyes of The Son. Why am I here? Where am I to travel and will I be happy?

Please, dear God, grant me happiness.

I want to be the ideal, but I can't. Of course I can't. I know and accept this fact, yet I never try as hard as I can.

Help me to read You, to see You, to feel You.