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I want to watch Your hand
reaching across the sun
and piercing time
to pour my life
into its rightful story.
I want to domesticate my defiance
that it might converse with my faith
and submit to the goodness
of Your plans.
If only omnipotence and benevolence
didn’t contradict each other so much
—in this space and time, at least.
I want to bring my suit to Heaven
with all of my strength
and feel better afterward.
I want to listen
if only You’d speak to me.
I see no reason why
You should want to make me happy
but there’s nothing wrong
with asking to be happy,
is there?
You know what makes me happy
yet You continue to
refuse to give it.

This thing in my heart,
did You intend it to be a test,
an addiction I have to overcome
in order to be worthy?
Or did You give it to me
as a gift
to pursue and cultivate at all costs
and to hell with everything else?
How can it be my nature
if I can still watch myself
doing it outside of myself?
Those people I hurt
while being “only me”,
no less than all I could be,
do I ask You for forgiveness
or face You squarely
the way Your purer angels can’t do
and tell You, “Lord, the work is done.”?