Paper Airplanes: Reclaiming Myself
Dear God,
I love you.
I just said I loved you, but you know I’m not feeling it. I show it in many actions, yes, but the feeling’s not there now.
And I know you love me, but I’m not really feeling that either.
I’m so sorry.
This is not how I want to be, but I bring it upon myself and give in to the pull of my demons. It’s a very familiar place, and I actually thought I had left it behind—possibly forever—until very recently.
How quickly I fade into the shadow.
I want to bask in the Son shine.
This prayer wants to be a poem, but what’s a poem without feeling? On that note, what’s a prayer without all of my heart? Like a paper airplane that nosedives upon take off. But somehow, I have a feeling that God will lift up my floppy prayer and carry it home.
9.21.11
Dear God,
I love you.
I just said I loved you, but you know I’m not feeling it. I show it in many actions, yes, but the feeling’s not there now.
And I know you love me, but I’m not really feeling that either.
I’m so sorry.
This is not how I want to be, but I bring it upon myself and give in to the pull of my demons. It’s a very familiar place, and I actually thought I had left it behind—possibly forever—until very recently.
How quickly I fade into the shadow.
I want to bask in the Son shine.
This prayer wants to be a poem, but what’s a poem without feeling? On that note, what’s a prayer without all of my heart? Like a paper airplane that nosedives upon take off. But somehow, I have a feeling that God will lift up my floppy prayer and carry it home.
9.21.11
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