Father, I feel so faulty today--
Weariness fogs behind my eyes,
and something (is it anger or sadness or worse?),
threatens to shake off my meager regulation.

I'm sorry for running and running
in the same circles, to get away from--
what?
When all along I always knew
It was to You I should have run.

Please, I don't want to escape
the stable. I want to feel
the ground quake beneath Your cross,
and to wait in the cold garden
for the first rays of Your rising sun--

Yes, I want to stay, even if that means confronting
whatever what is.