Fire

There is a depletion of prayer burning in the atmosphere of my life. I am not always honest with you. I simply refuse to open up to all that I am in you, to the things I do not even know are there. I need you to bury yourself in them, deep in my hear; bury yourself in the muck and dust and darkness of the unknown parts of my self and come crawling out with new skin, with my own skin, to show me who I am and what I desire. I cannot pursue what I want to pursue without you showing me what that is. And it is difficult to hear you. It is difficult to hear myself. It is difficult to know what to do and I am frustrated by that. And sometimes I project my frustrations on you because I do not know what to do with them. And as much as I am sorry for putting that on you, greater is my gratitude for the very fact that you allow me to do such a thing; that you say “yes, lay your frustrations on me so I can be frustrated for you and with you.”

You are good.

Burn me up at least to I can continue to feel you acting in my life.That is a terrifying  thing to say, but truly, take that and continue to work. I am frustrated with myself, but I do not know myself well enough to truly be frustrated with myself, so I must look at you to see myself. Can I see my imperfections and disabilities in you? Is that alright? If it is not, yell loud enough for me to know. Otherwise I give you thanks for being great, and good, and loving enough to take my shit sometimes. Most of the time.

Take my fears and my joys. My hopes and my despairs. You are good.