A Stone Upon My Chest

Pray for a Miracle

One heart, one mind,
yet it is so deep, so very deep,
I struggle to draw it up.

The rupture of pain was long ago—
or perhaps only moments past—
still it spreads through my whole body.

Flattened on the bed,
like a limp, forgotten rag doll,
I lie unwell, day after day.

Faith enough to move mountains
is said to be as small as a mustard seed,
so I hope for a miracle—
just one stone lifted from my chest.

To my beloved Lord,
I say I want to walk with You.
I plead—
take me anywhere.

I am a letter of Christ.
I pray that my life might be read in place of words,
longing to hear His voice.

Sometimes You speak in silence,
sometimes through the heart,
sometimes with a glance.

At the very centre of that deep place,
I drop an anchor
and draw up sorrow and joy alike.
No matter how much I empty out,
something always remains.

Not everything can shine,
but may it glimmer, little by little.
Whether green or red,
let it show its colour.

Emptying, emptying, until I am emptied again—
until I am like a child once more,
running without care,
smiling lightly.

*these are my own paintings*