You engage this wrestling soul
You immobilize me, swift with every counter.
At war with You,
I am outmatched, outnumbered, outmaneuvered, outranked
I am an outlier.
I sit on the periphery,
The scent of fear on my breath
The flame of your fire reflects upon my cheek,
But I remain too far to feel Your warmth.
You did this! You punished me for nothing at all!
I wasn’t yet born and your plot had begun!
Where are those who would defend me from your ruse?
Only silence follows my pleas.
In the quiet you seize me again;
I am without strength to defend
I am exposed
I am broken
I’ve lived so long on empty narratives of forgone conclusions
I have authored stories without plot
But Your words I have left to waste away on the plains of my subconscious
Fields left ravaged from battle
So I open my hands to receive
The breadcrumbs that fall
From your table in the wilderness
Your feast of hope
Your welcome-home party for the once-alones and now-founds
We didn’t know you held a place for us here
As we look around to see your kingdom
Full of fools, vagabonds, and traitors
Together we indulge in Your mercy, then find our story in Your praise.