There are some mornings

I stand in my closet

And weep

Simply because I can’t fathom

You chose me

When I can’t even seem to choose

What shoes to wear

To protect my feet from

The dust

That will be me someday

That was me that day

The day You said yes.


Even then

When I was sin

You saw me sitting at Your table

Gnawing the flesh off dry bones

Desperate for even the marrow-

Anything to make my own life grow.

You saw me then

Passed the bread

And said

“Here, take this.”

So I took it in my blood stained hands

Believing that I would never be hungry again.

When I find myself on these mornings

Weeping in my closet

I can’t help but ask myself

Why would I ever choose

To put on these shoes

And walk away from the aisle

And Your “I do.”

Even though

I do,

Choosing instead

To crawl to the street corner

And beg for bread.


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