rush in love, Sunday

you are kind
when my eyes 
meet yours–
God, is this good?

I think to an otherwise

empty room, only me
& the quietest companion

of the trinity. Holy Spirit,

maybe I can’t see the color
of your pupils, but blue

comes to mind–a river

prompt: You meet a man named Sunday. What is he like?

From this lovely woman & her rambles.

Rereading this, I love how I still can’t perceive God. But think he’s further off than the Holy Spirit. And he’s silent, looking at me always with the wells of love.

God, you aren’t as distant as I think because you say your loving eye is upon me. All the time. The Holy Spirit reminds me of your words. And sits with me in the dark, the questions, the way I think you may have turned away, leaving me more anxious than I wish to admit?

What is my consolation for this?

You loves me yesterday. You love me today. You’ll me tomorrow. Next week. Next month. Next year.

You have forever on your mind. And this isn’t going to shift, like shadows I sometimes think walk around my bed at night. The way I cower under the blanket, as the they sit bedside: the quietest reminder I am not alone.

This gift from my Father, full of light, who runs toward me with intention to share his heart.

This creepy, slithery serpent named, Anxiety needs crushing. LORD, your name is a fortress, so come quick with reminder of your love. With your face, because my inside is unnerved and tense & there is no need worry, when your thoughtful plans are always to prosper, not harm.

A hope in you for the future you have for me.
Fight for me, Lord, as I wait still.


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