Child, what is that you are holding?
What’s going on?
I keep trying to aid it fast,
but it keeps getting worse.
Child give it to me. I can do something about it.
No. Lord NO!
You don’t understand.
I can’t give it to anyone anymore.
I will keep it and protect it from everyone.
I… I… I trust no one!
Everyone I gave it to,
took it, dropped it, broke it, crushed it…
It’s full of sores and wounds.
I trusted those that promised to heal it,
only for its condition to be worse.
Lord, I can’t.
I can’t afford to ache anymore.
There’s no blood to bleed anymore.
I can’t afford to have it yanked
and played with anymore.
There is no energy to hide its sorrows.
I can’t fake smiles.
I can’t have it on my sleeves.
I can’t be vulnerable anymore.
There are no ‘cans’ remaining.
Sorry. I’d rather hold it
-bleeding and all,
than give it away again.
I’d rather watch it die than entertain ideas of false hope.
It’s safer with me here.
I have a nice fortress with a safe whose combination I dare not remember.
We will be fine. My heart and I.
I don’t trust you.
Behold, I stand at the door and knock.
If anyone hears my voice and opens the door,
I will come to him and dine with him and he with Me.
I will heal every sickness.
Every broken heart shall be fixed.
I will give freedom from self-imposed ‘safe’ cages,
and joy from all the sadness.
I will do a new thing in that heart.
If you allow me to.