“It is finished.”

I would like to learn to pray.

I fear the devil knows my heart
For men are not unique as such
And think we oft the only ones
To think or feel or cry this way…

But this is not how we’re alone.

Near to God is what I seek
But fear confounds my every step
And I stumble as though drunk
And cannot find the way…

But God has spoken.

A Certain Numbness to Observe

My dependence on God-
Although necessary
Seems mostly driven home
By my failures
And my inability
To make myself
What I would be.

And this can be
As failure often is.

But pride flees
And I bend my knees
And ask again
For a repentant heart.