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I don’t know how to pray anymore. It’s part of my heart that’s hurting and sore. I whisper out lines beginning with “Lord” And soon find it’s something my heart can’t afford. I’m tired of trying to make sense of things, Of crying and fighting for new beginnings. I’m sick of the beat from the tumultuous tide That constantly tears at my withered pride. But I’m taking the risks that I’ve never tried, Hoping there’s life on the other side.
As a journalist, you can create a free Muck Rack account to customize your profile, list your contact preferences, and upload a portfolio of your best work.
