🛌 Psalm 3: The Cry That Became a Whisper

(sung by Virgin Monk Boy just before falling asleep on a floor cushion while God braided his hair)

Psalms For The Unraveling

1
Many are the voices that rise against me
Inner critics dressed like old friends
Old wounds with fresh microphones
They say I am too far gone
They say no one is coming to help

2
But You, Stillness, are my shield
Not a wall to hide behind
But a presence that surrounds without smothering
You lift my head when I forget I have one
You whisper my name back to me
when I get buried under labels

3
I cry out
Not with perfect form
Not with impressive faith
Just a raw ache
and somehow
you always answer from the deep place
where I never stopped being held

4
I lay down
and slept
not because the danger passed
but because I finally remembered
who was breathing me