let me risk blasphemy.

it’s been a while and i’m starting to miss a lot of things. friends, family, home. it’s one of those nights again where the pillow doesn’t gain a head. i can’t remember the last time i cried this hard. this new air is very hard to breathe, it’s taking a lot from my chest, i don’t even have time for poetry.

there’s something about loss that they say changes you. and maybe that’s why i changed, significantly twice. i thought i lost everything when i lost her. life had comfort wrapped around what was left, only for it to take everything. money doesn’t buy happiness, but then man, life didn’t even leave the smallest change. I guess that’s what made me change.

but it’s only fair isn’t it? my hypocrite self. said i prayed, but i didn’t really. maybe i just wanted the Father to see me, so my father could please me. said i fasted, but i didn’t really. maybe i was blackmailing the Father so father would mail me a black card. it’s tough being a man mehn, it’s tougher being me.

but i’m grateful tho, for the sense of comfort i’m beginning to feel, but i feel guilty. like it’s undeserved. even though i prayed not to fall on my back, and this is it, but i’m scared. because i’m scared it might all go away, and leave me with nothing but breath, and what’s the point of breath without reason. what is the point of anything? the heavy gold around your neck, if it anchors you to a ghost ship, a sinking wreck? you pour the wine, but it tastes like rust, knowing your bloodline is grinding in the dust. it’s crazy, this world, and i don’t want to lean back, or have that rest, i think this doubt is just enough. maybe some people are not to know peace, and maybe rest isn’t for everyone, maybe not everyone gets a good life, you know, the nice air, and flowers and shii. because really, nothing is for everyone. life is not a one size fits all, but life comes in all sizes.

so, Father, since i’m already here, and since the night has already swallowed my pride, let me just ask you directly. let me interrogate the heavens the way a drowning man does air. there’s not much else i can do anyway.

why does your voice hide in the same corners my fear sleeps in. why do i have to scream through the dark just to hear my confusion’s voices? and why does believing in you feel like carrying a candle through rainstorms you created.

why sculpt a tender heart then baptize it in things meant for iron, why hand me softness then dare me to survive a world that sharpens itself on my ribs. why design me with depth and then call me dramatic when i drown in it.

and tell me something true for once, if you knew i’d break, why didn’t you warn me. if you knew my faith would fracture, why build it from glass. and if you knew grief would be my inheritance, why didn’t you rewrite the will.

don’t tell me free will,  no. free will doesn’t explain why silence has your handwriting. it doesn’t explain the nights where the ceiling felt more present than you. and it doesn’t explain why my childhood collapsed like it was waiting for the right moment to hurt.

why is peace always passing by my house but never entering. and why does joy behave like a visa that keeps expiring. why is every blessing covered in conditions. why must i earn what others seem to just breathe.

and let me go further. let me risk blasphemy. it’s not even blasphemy, it’s only where my honesty stopped negotiating.

now, why give me dreams that collide with reality. why stitch ambition into my skin knowing life would tear at it. why give me a spine then stack burdens on it until it bent under the weight of trying to be enough.

why give me breath if every inhale must fight memory. why give me tears if you never showed up to collect them. why give me wisdom if learning it feels like punishment.

and Father, since you know my thoughts anyway, hear the questions you avoid answering.

you might say survival is your reply, but why must survival taste like punishment. if endurance is strength, why does said strength feel like a slow surrender. and humility, contentment? isn’t that just accepting mediocrity? you might say grief carved room in me, but why carve so violently i mistook the shaping for cruelty.+

and you might whisper i was there, like you were there, but if you were, why did the darkness outnumber you. and why did my knees hit the ground harder than comfort hit my spirit. why did i grow fluent in silence before i ever learned hope.

claim divine timing, but delay feel like abandonment dressed up in scripture.

and what haunts me, if you love me, where exactly is it, i’m talking about love for me and not “honey, i love everybody.” what haunts me is if you don’t love me, why keep saving me just enough to survive the next lesson.

Father, i am not disrespecting you. i’m only presenting evidence. i’m showing the court of heaven that i have loved you enough to demand the truth. maybe then earth would see i’m a worthy enough law student. i’m proving that faith is not blind obedience, but dragging my heart into the light and saying to explain this. 

why give me this heart and then let it be handled by life with no gloves. and this soul without a manual. why give me breath and not teach me how to use it without hurting.

may the judge nod.

may the prosecutor sit.

may the courtroom fall into a silence deep enough to bruise.

the defence rests, 

for honesty itself is a kind of surrender.