I don’t know how to talk to God since my father’s suicide.

Faith asks of me that I trust in the untouchable, the unknowable.

But I have lived through the unimaginable, the unbearable, and the unforeseeable.

Perhaps it is life itself that I do not trust.

God is the scapegoat

Because I still need a place to lay the blame;

Undeserved as it may be.

I close my eyes and imagine standing in front of God.

Laying out all of the shattered pieces that I have gathered up

I ask, “What now?”

And God answers me, “Entrust me with one fragment at a time.”

“Where do I begin?” I ask.

“Give to me a piece of your pain, that I may carry it and make your burden lighter.”

I don’t know how to talk to God.

But the tears flow.

I allow God to gather them as they do.

A piece of my pain is now in God’s keeping.

I’ll learn to trust again one broken piece at a time.

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