A delicate palm clinched in my hand. If I lay this down, “will you pick me up?” I’ve been broken in my mind for some time…Jesus do you hear those thoughts as well? The one’s where I doubt all of this mess?
There are no parades here. The only thing left is the body, you & me.
I can hear shouting from the dark, “you were meant for more…” but a smaller version of me is trying to revive the Spirit.
Echoing through wilderness a frightened child asks, “Do you lose sleep too?”
The pain of this world breaks my bones, just as much as my own.
I promised to cling to you like a lost child in the night. They handed me promises to keep and little instruction on matters of the heart. Jesus does that make me weak?
Break me wide open. I need my body to come alive. My hands tremble as the distance from me to you becomes unbearably uncomfortable.
When you cried in your garden was it for me, for them, for all of us?
Take these falsehoods, as my mind cripples me as much as it illuminates truth. When I walk past this wilderness may I feel the burn in my scars and feel your voice resonating a deeper truth.
Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest
Here I am
weak, but here