My being aches for your presence, beloved, yet I must accept that you have walked away. I surrender my will to chase you, for the will of God to take place, as the chase for that which is not the will of God is but after the wind. This heart of mine pulsates with longing for your acceptance, yet I nourish it with the acceptance of God, for accepting me is beyond your capacity. Gone is the shine from my nails, and so is the love that has once given the shine to it.

Who can I relish the silliness of the world with in childly innocence, my dear, when gone is the one who would laughingly push me on the trolley? I read my books with a void on my lap where your head used to rest, a nothingness that so deeply pulsates with what once was. I dance out of rhythm with no mate who would laugh at the abysmal chaos of my movement and appreciate its earnestness. Gone is the joy of being so lovingly appreciated, and so is the lover who has once given this joy.

The taste of cardamom in my tea has gone stale, left only with the memory of whom I served tea. I painfully tear the tethers with prayers, and each one torn bleeds out the grief of longing that coagulates into the acceptance of having lost you. My wrists feel the phantom of your fingers caressing them, yet I must sever the ties in my soul with which I feel your phantom. Gone is the intricate sensuousness of affection, and so is the touch that has once ignited it.

Who's balm of sweet prayer can I lay on my wounds, when gone are the hands that held mine to feel God in unison? Though you may be gone, it is God who stays with me. Though you may not have the capacity to accept me, it is God who accepts me. Though our hands are no longer intertwined in prayer, he tells me not to fear, for he holds my right hand as I walk this path toward him.

But beloved, I must confess my sorrow that yearns for you all the same, not to draw further from him who is all, but to draw near to him so that he may draw near to me. Beloved, I must confess that my soul is parched for your presence and pines in your absence. I live moments of joy with the bitter aftertaste of having lost you, yet live I must, for my life was never driven by you, nor was it ever meant to be lived for you.

I push against the grain of my instinct to call out your name by calling out the name of he who created you and I, for it is through his name that flow rivers of living water out of my heart. I push against the instinct to seek your embrace, for your decision to deny me has been made, and my wellspring of life yearns for an acceptance that you cannot provide.

Forgive me, beloved, for I write not to condemn, which is something that I am not in a position to do, given that I have denied you as much as you denied me, but to confess a longing that I ethically cannot express to you, and so I pour it out to my image of you before God. Forgive me, God, for I write of my sorrowful longing not to deny your blessings, but to seek your blessing of comfort, for today, I am he who mourns.

A robin walks on the balcony, singing as he flies. A father and a son tear up in one another's embrace after half a decade apart. There is beauty in the moments, Lord. Let my heart rest in the beauty of your blessings, and let my sorrow be comforted by your presence, for I praise you both in joy and in sorrow alike.