Lying in bed at 11 pm,
The stillness of the dark,
Turmoil of the soul,
Loudly screaming “HELP!”
But you can’t yell,
Everyone else is sleeping.
Just if I was too,
If only I could.
If only I could
Forget the trauma,
Undo habitual reminiscing,
Stop the aching of my heart.
She can’t handle the eerie silence,
Her ruminating thoughts are shouting.
“Go away!” she cries,
Nothing listens to her.
She reaches for her phone,
Watching anything to dampen the inner monologue,
Hoping she would eventually fall asleep.
It has been four hours since
She first laid down.
Desperately needing rest,
She says a simple prayer.
Why did I not try this first?
Why is it seemingly easier to try everything else
Before effortlessly receiving from God?
Previous requests unanswered perhaps.
But he has literally opened the door
Since the tomb’s stone was rolled away.
His arms are wide open
Forever when he was nailed to the cross.
My name is written on his hands,
Scars for him and me to remember.
Every tear rolled off my face
Is collected as treasures in his flacon.
His hand separated a sea into walls of water,
Dry ground to walk on.
Through stormy seas,
His same hand holds mine to walk on water.
“Faith,” he calls for.
Take the small step,
He has already run a mile,
Not away but towards you.
Don’t run any further,
Though escaping is instinctive.
Is it that arduous to simply receive?
Which is really less demanding?
Stephanie enjoys simple living, admiring nature’s beauty and intricacy, and playing the piano. She is particularly passionate about empowering the vulnerable. Writing is her way of processing thoughts and feelings to understand herself, God and the world in a deeper and more meaningful way.