O Lord, do not be far off.

(An attempt at a “creative” response to Psalms 22)

I’m on a plain.
Its hot, dry, breathing is hard.
I can see tracks, i remember traveling with others.
But they are long gone.
All I want to do is curl up and sleep in the warm blanket of sand.
And die.
Everything is slowly going black and there is not way out.
A chain around my leg, a straightjacket around my chest.
Screaming in my ears turns to a constant ringing so i can’t sleep.

The aching in my legs spreads higher and higher.
It climbs through my pain racked body until it reaches my heart.
The thudding grows louder and louder.

I remember a whisper.
“I’ve got you in my arms.”
Still in pain, with tears drying on my face, my cracked lips grin.
A strange calm takes over the storm in my soul.

It’ll be ok.
Heart ripped apart, future in doubt, hands tied.
It’ll be ok.
Sentenced to prison, smuggling narcotics
It’ll be ok
An addiction written on my face.
It’ll be ok.
Children stolen, family destroyed.

And it will be ok because I am held in the hands of my beloved
Who knows me, and wants me.

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