(Written shortly after the death of my son. Not really about a lack of faith, but a desire for it.)
I know that you can walk on water.
And I know that you can calm the seas.
Oh God, when will you walk beside
and calm this storm inside of me?
My feet, my faith, stuck in the mire.
Belief now captured in the clay.
Oh God, when will you hear me crying?
When will you answer when I pray?
Did Michael come to claim his soul
before being swallowed by the earth?
Will you make him walk on streets of gold
despite the lack of second birth?
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