I don’t trust you. Not fully. Not really. And I know this. I’ve told you I struggle with you in this. But for a while now I thought I was doing better. I wasn’t struggling to in the way that I used to before. Because I was reminding myself that you do not mean me any harm. That I am passing through the valley but death will not come near me. But even so, I didn’t want to admit the truth. I wasn’t trusting you. Not really. And even now; I wonder if you care. I know you hear the voice of the blood of your children crying out to you. I know it is tugging at the hem of your robes, seeking audience, begging to be heard, gasping for justice. I can’t begin to imagine how it grieves you; but dare I ask: is your grief the kind that isn't moved to change the status quo---is it of those who know to cry with us, but wouldn’t lift a finger for us?
I’m sorry, I’m beyond frustrated. Words don’t even seem enough. I begin to type something and I stop. It has already been said. What’s the point? I’m tired of repeating the same thing. I need to see you show up. Yes, there is a time and a season for everything under the sun. What am I missing? When is the time? What is this season? But I digress.
I’m sorry, I’m beyond frustrated. Words don’t even seem enough. I begin to type something and I stop. It has already been said. What’s the point? I’m tired of repeating the same thing. I need to see you show up. Yes, there is a time and a season for everything under the sun. What am I missing? When is the time? What is this season? But I digress.
You do not trust me enough, is what you said to me. I don’t. But I want to. I desire to. Not because I think life will be obstacle free. But because I need to see beyond what is in front of me. There has to be something more than all this drudgery and disappointment, with its fleeting moments of joy and hope. There has to be a better place than here.
*SoulTea*
pic via @mezuofoegbu
