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.