I found God at the bottom
of a box labeled—I can't do this
anymore.
He'd been crushed by a to-do list
of prayers and hypocritical moments.
I kept Him there and pulled
Him out
only
when my heart was pressed up
against a wall, choked by the hand
of my own imperfection, very
few ways out. I'll do this myself.
No, I don't need
You right now.
He was my lucky charm,
all the flavors of the marshmallows
I swallowed, but they were
in-coherent shapes—I'm not sure
I could tell you any of His
word by
heart.
My heart
was always elsewhere,
unless it needed something,
Lord bless me and make it quick.
I can't go to church today.
Sure, I love you, but you
should understand,
my time is precious. After all—
you made it finite.
Stop.
My fingers are numb.
One day,
I pulled Him out through the dust
kicked off the heels of my neglect
and finally stopped the trampling
and the insincerity and the
Weight.
Your word never lies and I finally
knew what soaring on eagle's wings meant.
It was then I realized God was never
at the bottom of that box.
It was my soul which finally
remembered its hole
and ached for His waiting hand.
Father?
I turned home.
