Isaiah’s Rant

I can’t take it,
no, not the memory
or the pain
please explain, Oh God,
the memory that remains.
Oh, dear God, I hurt,
it’s not a flirt or casual appeal,
it’s real.
It’s more than what I know,
can do,
but even then,
I live and breathe, while others?
not so. She didn’t.
Oh, God, I want to let this go,
but I can’t.
so, I rant…
I cry…
Wonder why…
after all this time, you’d bring me back,
here, for what?
To what end?
To revisit my youth?
A brief, fleeting time, when
a young girl and I
walked hand in hand.
If truth were told,
I must now ask,
was I ever in your will and grasp?
If so,
where is your peace?
There’s none tonight.
I’m done, undone…
but that’s alright.
As you did with Isaiah.
Take that coal of fire,
dispatch that angel with your merciful tongs…
inspire,
touch my lips!
Your glory I need see,
as to know, it’s You,
no other,
and with that, I’ll find my peace.