I can’t see past this, the fog is too thick, and the light only breaks through in scattered spots, here and there

I’m not even angry anymore; Only tuirse; and my weariness has settled deep in my bones, even in my prayers

I ask heaven for simple things: not riches, not miracles per se, only joy, companionship, simplicity, and peace

The sky stays quiet, then I am left wondering
why the answers do not come to the questions I carry most honestly

Still, I remain: tired, unfinished, waiting for even one small requested mercy to reach me

help me believe