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Jeremiah 33:3
“Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.”
It is not spoken but sewn
Stitched into the fabric of my families souls
The belief taking them to the present state
Where eyes are closed and hands are held
An aroma of Christmas dinner sits at the table
Listening to the wants and wishes of my relatives
A promotion, some sunny days, and a hint of romance for the youth
“...and continue to watch over us, in your name, amen.”
I don’t pray anymore
God seemed to be sold out when I came crawling, my tears as currency
Maybe they would pay for a solution to my problem
Or a throne for God to sit on and watch
Watch my therapist excuse my depression as the devil
Watch me spit out pills I wanted to swallow
Watch my mother deny my mental illness
Watch me sit in a pew and pray for the final time
My last prayer is to ask for an apology
From a bystander, on his hands and knees
Slobber from sobs dripping into his mouth
To muster up the “I’m sorry” I will never forgive
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