I have often wondered about my mind. How it plays tricks on me. Foggy, crushing, chaos, creating doubt, self-hatred, despair; dragging my life down into depression.

I have learned to fake it, to pretend. Everything will be alright. The pills work. I must be okay. What is the alternative?

Everyone has faith in me to survive. I ask God for help as everyone was slowly stripped away from me by death.

There is only me and God to wrestle this archenemy depression. The anger that sits inside me threatens. Every day, we win if I get up. Again and again.

To choose generosity, to be a good person, to see beauty, to love. There is no good inside me unless God resides there. That’s my life. That’s enough for today.

(On Being Human — A Prayerful Poem)

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We will go soon, and I’m afraid.

I laid awake last night, wondering. 

And in the meantime, since.

I thought and thought.  My brain hurt for thinking so hard. When does rationality belay trust in God? Our souls churn, the crushing

Weight of heart ache. We are sore from it.  Sleep won’t come

And it’s 3:30 in the morning.

Then you must pause.

As I waited I said to the Holy One, “So. I’m here now.

It’s just you and me.  What is your plan?

And now

We will go,


Into the future

Yet untold, unwritten, unknown

I’m afraid.  I’m undone, weary.

And yet I gave it to God. And my sweaty grasping hands and my heavy heart are open and free.

There is fear in the uncertainty as I long for assurances

That haven’t yet come nor will they

Perhaps ever.  For that’s the way of it,

Being human.