Praise

I am good for nothing else

Riddled with agony, an aching mess

Of cuts and gaping wounds, trauma and

Bruises

Just threaded together, barely, by the strings of your grace.

Nobody can know me as You do, so I burn to know you

When the tidal wave of nothingness climbs its way into my lungs

There is nobody to give me breath except for you, King

You are the only reason I still sing

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Spirit

I feel watery today, unsure of myself, unable to

Bring the peace I crave so deep in my soul

Who will help me? Who will hold me?

Not this earth, not these

Wanderers

As lost as me

Jesus

Is the only stillness

In this whirling chaos.

April night

Once I

Felt warmth at my back, and fell asleep

Peacefully

Thinking, in a moment of late, exhaustion-induced confusion, that it was you.

But sunlight, and morning

Broke the truth

It was only the cat, curled up at my back.

And you are still dead;

You are still dead.

Not about me

At most, my pain diminishes me

I feel small, I feel nothing

I feel the nothing pulling me in

I know its name, its harmonies well up

They pour out of my eyes and stain my life

At best, the pain underscores the why

Without agony there is no joy.