I hold my heart up to you God
Fleshy, bruised, damaged and sore.
Sunken and aching.
Hollow and rigid in parts.
Angry and sad, mostly I am sad right now Lord.
I’m terrified of my grief, help me soften into it like the little child you made me to be.
Help me know that my me is:
Sensitive not over dramatic
Expressive not a show off
A Performer not demonstrative
Damaged not a nuisance
Empathetic not pathetic.
Revive me Lord.
Resuscitate me God.
Enliven my flesh so it reflects your love.
Take the charred, bruised and sunken hollow parts of my heart and breathe life back into me.
No matter how much they try and dampen my keys with their foot on the pedal.
No matter how much they try and mute my strings.
They can take away the bow to my hearts violin and yet I will still express my sorrow, despite it all. With you and because of your love.
No matter how much they try and dim my light,
Let it not go out my Lord, my God.
As Sampha said, no one knows me like the piano in my mother’s home.
Help me understand my parents choices and not take it all on as my own fault.
The shame and worry I feel when I express your gift of music you gave to me is an error, help me know that and release it fully my Lord.
Help me embrace my me fully. And see my person as a gift not a problem.
Help me not be bitter about it all, help me stay as soft as a baby.
Help me restore my lost melodies, my hidden caverns, my sorrow and my goodness.
Restore the longings I felt God in Venice’s piazzas, France’s alps, Scotlands purple heather, the lonely apartments I’ve been lost in. The lonely, loud cities.
Restore the unspoken words, the unwritten agreements and the broken hearts from my past relationships.
Restore me God
Revive me God
Resuscitate me my Lord.
In my aching heart I write to you, you who is only feeling and good, you who will not ever chastise my sorrow but instead hold and soothe me through it. This is all so unknown, so scary and I am terrified.