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In my hour of need, when tears cascade down my face like rivers

And faults pile up at my feet like freshly cut straw — so high they tickle on my knees,

I worry that I am rejected.

Will God show me mercy?

Can God, our Creator, take my pain away?

When my bones feel heavy and earthbound, lacking life — maybe even rotting — I expect vultures to descend and trump my misery with pecks of their beaks and swipes of their razor-sharp talons.

For I am unworthy of love of the I Am. I am rejectable, cast out, beyond redemption. I am forsaken and forgotten by those I love. I feel the ones I love, and they care not that I hurt. They live in their house of mirrors where I am only a reflection of some bad thing. Or bad things.

My hour of need, when I lie at the bottom of the well, walls pitted from my fingernails, will God come for me?

A whisper, “Fear not.”

A light, “You are loved.”

Feathered wings around me — I am lifted. A soft peace envelops me, and I sleep. Minutes or hours or years later, maybe lifetimes, I awaken.

I see —

The rejection was me. I abandoned myself. I forgot to love myself.

I allow the integration of all love. All appreciation, grace, harmony, peace, joy, and when I make room: happiness.

I am beloved. I am beloved of the I am. I am lifted and healed, and I remember.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Holly Burger, 258 words, January 8, 2022