that creeps into every blessed moment
the discomfort in the
and ongoing slight detachment
from the present
to feel less
knowing what was
intended to be,
to clean up the mess
that weve made.
that ive made.
its not that im ungrateful
for the way youve transformed my very being
for your word that has held me tightly
for the patient beating heart in the bed next to me
for the strands of friendship that are not quickly broken.
its just that i see a world
and hearts shattered on the floor
and im running around trying to salvage as many as possible,
knowing that its useless
but its worth it.
you made this beautiful mess
and planted in the midst of the misery
a garden of dandelions
and with your breath
you use every seedling from every stem
to scatter your love,
until you return to reclaim your flowers
and set the captives free.
until then, i long for you every moment
and pray that your kingdom come
your will be done
as it was intended.