I hear my daughter say "Where did my Mommy go?
She never sings anymore."
If I could reach out to you,
If it was possible to see beyond the lid that presses down my heart,
I would look to you.
But as it is, I stay a petulant, spoiled child who refuses comfort in the arms of the most cherished.
As it is...
Are you here anyway?
Can you see into my barren soul, if I don't ask you to look?
Will you continue to see the me you first loved
if I stay in this pit without you?
Will you still hold my mind in the palm of your hand even though every thought is being held captive by someone else?
How long will you love me?
Beyond my shame,
is there room for the purveyor of grace?
Is your grace boundless enough to release the tentacles of my demons?
No, so it seems.
You are silent.
I don't reach my hand out to you because I can't.
I don't have to seek you.
I stay here in my hell, because you love me anyway and always and as it is,
I'm relying on that.
As it is, you already know the way - out.
As it is and always will be - the only way out is, regrettably,
Please, get me through.
I want to sing.
Please, lead me back to your voice.
Eleven years later. I reached out my hand and the barren soul is mostly healed... But, now my daughters actually ask me not to sing quite so loud, or quite so often, or in the middle of "What Not to Wear." Which by the way, they keep submitting me for. I guess there's no middle ground. You are either silent - or singing at the top of your lungs. In or out. Stuck or through. As of today…I got through!