There is a certain state of desperation You have kept me in,
it draws me back to You every time I misplace my footing.
You whisper to me to lift my weary head
out of the chasm
and stare into Your light.
I inhale a breath and contemplate the voice that beckons me,
it is so different from the others,
the ones that tear at the seams of my mending heart
and force the wound open again,
crimson with the bleeding, festering.
I cry out to You as the light begins to fade once more,
pleading for the gauze that will numb the pain I have willingly brought myself back into again.
You are my surgeon,
stitch me back together.