My know has taken a beating.
It’s a ship battered,
sails tattered,
creaking into harbour
hardly worth mending.
Relentless storms pushed it
miles off course.
I tossed all the cargo,
lost some sails completely
while others flap–riggings torn.
It’s been a storm.
Winds howling, drowning
out Your voice;
salt water in my eyes
spun around and lost.
So how do I know?
How do I know You are, at all?
More, how do I know You are good?
When you let the storm rage on?
How do I know?
I know by how wrong the storm feels,
how alien the ravaged ship.
I know by the yearning
for a day
where the sun shines
and the wind fills my sails
carries me across a sparkling sea.
Sometimes
in the dark storm
the only way I know You
is by how much I want you.
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