They say we keep repeating what we don’t repair. So here I am, in all my broken glory. Precariously placed at the precipice of desperation- by a mere thread, hanging. Stumbling amidst the throngs of life and its responsibility, subconsciously escaping just that. I am reaching the realisation that the bravado I have spent my days carefully constructing is slowly but surely beginning to crack. I am coming undone. And I don’t know how to fix it. My human hands are proving far too weak, as my feeble fingers fail to fill the spaces between the cracks. And I am tired of running. So tired of haphazardly giving parts of myself to all the wrong things- the parts of myself that you have lovingly created just for yourself.
These words blur now, even as I offer them to you; the eyes finally surrendering the tears they have been holding captive for far too long. There is so much I want to say to you but any set of words I attempt to string into sentence seem paltry in the presence of your magnificence. So, this is me giving up on the need to be coherent and embracing my untethered soul- placing my murky heart at your door- in all its messiness. Hoping that you will encompass it in your mercy.
Tattered heart in hand I come to you, with my head hung in shame- knowing that I have disgraced your love. Knowing that each word I utter is tainted with the hypocrisy of sin. Knowing that each time you have called me to you, like a petulant child I have clamoured in the opposite direction- adamant that I know better. This is me recognising that my biggest enemy is the reflection staring me back at each mirror. Not him. Or her. Nor them. Just me. This is me acknowledging that I know nothing. So bereft am I of knowing what is good for me, that in ignorance and haste, my ego has led me to be depleted of all that is beloved to You. It is all looking too much like broken- the heart, the mind, the soul. So, I come to you with my throat dry of your remembrance- parched like the weary Bedouin imprinting each increasingly laborious footstep in the sand, without ride nor provision. But still clinging onto hope in You.
Dear God, rectify everything that is broken within me. I beg of you. Turn my wavering heart unto Your love and keep it away from the love of anything that is devoid of You. As unworthy as I am, please do not return my hands empty- envelop me in Your mercy. If you were to forsake me, where else would I go? Who else do I have to turn to? You are the only one who is always there- time and time again teaching me the truth of loyalty. Please do not turn me away. Resuscitate my dead heart so that it breathes for You and only for You.
Sofia is an English teacher and Islamic Studies student based in the Midlands. She writes, primarily, to make sense of the world around her, as she navigates her experiences and observations as a woman of colour. When she’s not writing she likes to spend her time reading, travelling and being sarcastic. She currently writes on https://www.instagram.com/thesilentsoliloquy/