| Apart |

Sometimes I am astounded at my own arrogance.

I want so much to gaze into the face of God,

But I love my own eyes too much.

So…I look away.

“Tomorrow.”

“Later.”

“Sometime.”

Never?

“Oh Father, Your child is so lost—”

I want to say—

About—

Someone else.

So hateful!

What is wrong with me?

I trust myself too much, and so I despise myself.

What is identity if not blurred with Your image?

What is trust without Your wounds?

I seek answers but cannot stomach the questions.

Weakness.

Weakling. 

I am a darkling who defies a White King.

There is a part of me that stands apart.

Will you find it, Father? 

Can it be found?

Can You save me?

Will you?

Flickering hope, a glimpse of Your gentle smile.

I know it never dies.

I want to cry.