The Question

These have been, physically, the worst of days, and can beg the question, Why?

Am I cursed, or worse, forgotten?

Or is it something else, something whose boundaries I cannot see?

I am tempted to complain

about the turn my life has taken,

to shout at God that He explain

(after, of course, He doth awaken)

exactly what He meant by this;

was my life so really wrong?

Did I make His Bad Guy list?

Was the smell of sin so strong

that He had to hold His nose

and turn His holy head away?

Or was it, maybe, that He chose

this dread place by my side to stay,

weeping with me in the dust,

tears on His cheeks that show His trust?

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is FAR.

I feel so very far from life,

locked into these bitter days

of pain, exhaustion, endless strife

that stays and stays and stays and stays,

but somehow I was made for this,

and know that I cannot return

to a place of peace and bliss;

no, the fact is I must burn

and smell of smoke down to the bone

here in this refining fire,

choosing this place to atone

for my wallowing in mire

of sin that I with joy embraced,

a soul whose core's through flame replaced.

Man, I hate introspection. But at three minutes flat, truth is truth.

This scene from The Chosen gives me a lot of comfort.

Nonetheless, sometimes Sylvia wants to bite God.