22 Breathing 17Aching

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

I don’t get how faith is offered like a blanket, how you are supposed to wrap yourself in it to find warmth

when the cold has been living in you for 17 years

how does someone’s life just begin and immediately learn the language of hurt

22 years of breathing but i’ve spent 17 years of them aching

i don’t get how pain can arrive early, and be the most loyal thing you have had in your life

how it can grow with you, move with you, and memorize every mannerism you have

people say god doesn’t give more than what you can handle but no one ever could explain why handing it meant than you had to survive instead of actually living your life

why happiness shows up, like a visitor

who never unpacks, I don’t understand why some souls are born carrying weight meant for lifetimes, but maybe that’s the truest prayer, not praise, not surrender, but the honest question, said with shaking hands

why was I made to feel more pain than joy, and still be asked to believe there was purpose in it?