I want this back-and-forth to be
two-sided: You and me.
I want to put my pen to pad,
my ear to the ground,
and hear the sound
of You saying something back.
Why don’t You say something back?
I feel trapped
in my own head.
Thoughts echo,
ink crescendos
as I journal down into a depth
of worry I didn’t know was there -
of fleeting time. I’m well aware
there’s nothing happening right now -
and that’s the problem!
It’s not some
big ask that You’d allow
one word to slip from Your lips
and onto the tip
of my imagination,
that some semblance
of my reverence
for You might regain its proper place, and
it’s so quiet,
and it’s not right, but
I fill Your void with my own voice.
Father, let not I the silence break.
This violent nightwatch I will take
and make the watchmen’s choice
to wait and wait and wait.