Not as a child do I cry His name,
not with the simple, untrembling trust.
of one who has never felt the dark,
nor wrestled the weight of dust.
I have walked where silence lingers,
where prayers rise and fall like ash.
where the heavens shut like iron doors,
and faith lay broken in the past.
I have known the hollow hunger,
the terror of thought unchained.
where reason wars against the light,
and every answer ends in pain.
And Yet still
Still from the embers,
a whisper rises, fierce and true.
Not soft, not easy, not unscarred,
but burning with a deeper hue.
My Hosanna is born of fire,
of doubt that shaped my weary hands,
of questions that have scorched my lips,
of love I cannot understand.
For though I fell, though I despaired,
though night itself was all I knew.
I found Him there, within the dark
and there, in Him I began to trust