The birds chirp anxiously,
Nature’s drumroll to my decision.
Reluctant eyes open,
As again, death, I envision.
Legs swinging off the bed,
Pendulums for unwanted time.
The irony of belief in a God,
That taking yourself to meet is a crime.
It is not the thought of dying,
That makes fearful tears fall.
It is my decision to live each day,
The fact there’s a decision at all.
I am so entrenched in this dirt,
That it lusts deeply for my flesh.
Having built my wall of anxieties,
That even sleep will not refresh.
Yet my only escape,
Into kingdoms up higher.
Scares me even more so,
My escape door is on fire.
My love for this God is unending,
He gave me every smile I ever held.
And yet I read his scripture,
And the hate for my being swelled.
If I die, before I wake,
It will be his, my soul to take.
And yet how can I,
Pastor of sin.
Be carried to him?
With this hatred within.
So I wake up and strive in fear,
I survive in fear of strife.
Angel scared of heaven because,
Do the suicidal get an afterlife?
I plant those dangling feet,
Carpet between my toes.
This angel’s trapped on Earth,
Their soul’s wings black like crows.
Down the stairs I tread,
Arms stretched, not coffin-bound.
Just as your son walked on water,
Fear keeps me above ground.
Stood on a stony earth,
Can a muddied soul ever be safe?
I choose to stay trapped here,
Between a rock and a hard faith.