Sunday, June 13, 2021

Silent Conversations With God #1

Dear God,

I've been having silent conversations with you all day long. Have you heard them? Have you felt the cracking of my voice despite my mouth not speaking at all? Have you seen the hopelessness in my eyes; wishing for calmer seas and not storms I am obliged to weather?
Today morning, I looked up at the sky and sensed you looking through me, too. 
Do I disappoint you? Or is it a mere assumption based on a subtle projection that I have it in me to both disappoint and be disappointed at how things have come to collapse despite my best efforts? When I come so far, only to hit the ground this hard, it disturbs all the sanity in me.

I am thankful and eternally grateful for Your blissful aura of protection that surrounds me wherever I go. I've grown a habit of crawling back to you in times of despair because in Your embrace I feel safer than a newborn in its mother's arms.
I've always believed in You, heartfully and devotedly. My certainty of Your existence was never based on proof or rules or logic; it is what my heart truly holds.

Going back home in an uber today, I heard your words in an audio on the radio, and I collapsed in tears like an unarmed helpless little child. 
There was another silent conversation between You & I. Because when I looked up at the sky out the car window, I'm sure you heard me, and saw how shredded my insides were at that moment, but I couldn't hear you back.
I heard nothing. Everything grew darker and darker, and I struggled to breathe.

Forgive me when I ask, if
“On no soul doth God place a burden greater than it can bear.” 
then why do these burdens weigh me down with the certain impossibility of my capability of carrying them any longer than I have? 

Due to the ongoing crowdedness in both my head and soul I cannot continue this written conversation. But oh, how I'd kill just to hear a silent response. And oh how I long for reassuring answers or unspoken relieving conversations.
Until then, I will stay open and aware. Though my pain has grown strong, my faith is still as profound.

Yours, sincerely, wholeheartedly and vulnerably,
Your child.