Diary Entry 92

(for Anne)

Are You there…


I cannot breathe,

my chest stands still;

my mind constricts

its attempting will.


I cannot let go,

my hands do grip;

my fingers suffocate,

beginning tension’s courtship.


Help me,

for I feel as if

no one is here,

and I need Your hand

to be this

troubled heart’s puppeteer.


Pick up my strings,

that dangle in shreds;

resew what once

stood mended and fed.


For I have drifted away,

departing from  

words, whispers, and touch;

I’m left here hanging

like a doll once loved.


Breathe, My daughter,

allow your body to expand;

make room in your head

for My wanting, guiding hand.


Let go, My child,

allow your strength to waiver;

remember I am forever here –

your faithful savior.


I will help you always;

I have never left your side;

it is those strings that

have detached the Hand

that desires only to guide.


I will mend your strings;

although I desire no control;

I only want to comfort

and to your soul console.


Whenever you leave Me,

I patiently wait for your return;

I never cease the whisper and touch;

My words to reach you yearn.


Do not fret in your

worry, sorrow, and grief;

those are simply opportunities

for Me to offer sweet relief.


I am here…

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