A psalm of exhaustion. Of weeping. Of asking not to be abandoned when everything hurts and the soul feels like it's dissolving. It’s the prayer of a body that has been through too much, and a spirit that isn’t trying to be impressive anymore.
This reads like a psalm carved straight into bone. No polish, no performance, just the honesty of exhaustion laid bare. Sometimes the holiest prayer isn’t hope but groaning that refuses silence. You’ve already done what the psalmist did: turned despair into address. That is where presence begins to seep in, even when you can’t name it yet.
Beth Anne, hello and I hope you don’t mind that I pawed through posts to find this comment again . Shall we together call on healing , on our Healer Christ , that he can bring to you . You may already do. A sister here if ever you want to do together , we can call Him at an agreed time, a wee prayer a celebration and to ask for heal where it is you wish or where you are ready to go. And I am over in europe so now it is nearly 9pm. So if this time ish works, is good .
Have mercy
Not because I earned it (I didn’t)
But because I am tired (for over 5 long years now)
My bones feel like paper (sand paper)
My breath is shallow (I need my inhaler)
My heart is a room with no windows (why did they block them with a pacemaker?)
How long must i keep pretending i am fine? (I finally stopped)
How long before the ache turns into release? (I gave up thinking it might)
Save me (please)
Not from punishment (isn’t that what this is?)
But from numbness (over two years 24/7 occupying half of my face)
Let me feel again (the pain there is so unpredictable)
Even if it breaks me (I will know i am breakable instead of wondering numbly)
Let me praise you
Not with songs (i sing off key & forget the words)
But with sighs that finally land in your lap (I’ll try but will probably miss, my aim sucks)
My bed swims in grief (my pillow’s a life jacket)
I soak the night with tears no one sees (because I’ve cried my tear ducts dry)
I have forgotten how to hope (because i don’t remember what hope is)
And I am still here (am i?)
Let every false voice depart from me
Let the inner accusers lose their grip
They do not speak for Love
Neither do the words in parentheses above
They simply block my healing & resurrection
Please wipe them from my mind, heart & soul
And show me how to replace them
With the Presence of God 💔❤️🩹💖
This reads like a psalm carved straight into bone. No polish, no performance, just the honesty of exhaustion laid bare. Sometimes the holiest prayer isn’t hope but groaning that refuses silence. You’ve already done what the psalmist did: turned despair into address. That is where presence begins to seep in, even when you can’t name it yet.
Beth Anne, hello and I hope you don’t mind that I pawed through posts to find this comment again . Shall we together call on healing , on our Healer Christ , that he can bring to you . You may already do. A sister here if ever you want to do together , we can call Him at an agreed time, a wee prayer a celebration and to ask for heal where it is you wish or where you are ready to go. And I am over in europe so now it is nearly 9pm. So if this time ish works, is good .
If you ever wish just say
❤️