The Bridge

Maybe there is something wrong with me
I can’t seem to get a grip
on who I’m supposed to be.

And all these ailments
might be only in my head,
or a problem
deep within my heart—
some kind of
existential dread…

Doubled over in pain—
something to pray away.

A violent spin,
and a price to pay
for a mind that wouldn’t stay clear,
a fuse that’s wearing thin.

Something underground,
concerns no one else could see.

Driving with the warning lights
inside of me.

Maybe they are right.
I’m just not enough.

Lord, I tried to be better.

I want to believe.

Everything hurts—
but I don’t want
You to leave.

Perhaps I must resign
away from the life I had known.

I know it’s not Your design,

but it seems I must be strong—
and carry this alone.

You offered me some rope
when I was giving in.

A faint glimmer of hope—
to let me know
where
You’ve always been.

It began with breath,
like it always has.

Victory over death—
in so much as

fighting to choose life.

To build a bridge
over the void,
one board at a time,

healing what our extremes
have destroyed.

I’m a human with a name—
a body
with a spot to claim.

Who I am,
Your true design.

You never asked me
to stand on either side
of this line

between faith and humanity.
So I’ll keep building that bridge
with a quiet dignity.