Loaves and Fishes

I held her for almost half the hour with my arms round her waist and my head buried in her chest. She kept begging to know why. But I just couldn’t let go.

I was afraid of falling.

I have lived in the same sweatshirt for five days straight. Not to say I haven’t showered in that time because in fact, I have curled myself into a tiny soapy mess underneath the liberating downpour begging for forgiveness.

Life can be crippling- cut you off at the knees. I found myself pleading bleeding lying naked on the floor. I felt the moisture on my skin like the branding from sin as I cried out for more.

There has to be something more.

As I waited for answers my bones turned to rust. And I felt rushed as I implored, “Where is my angel, my pillar of fire? Will the heavens open before me and show me the light?” I felt as if I were dying as the cold rained down beside me. And I simply prayed that the loaf of bread I gave fed five thousand more.