I speak, but my words fall like whispers in the wind,
Twisted, tangled, unheard in the ears of him.
I give, but my offerings crumble like sand,
Never enough for the grasp of his hands.

He smiles, but his eyes still hold yesterday’s scars,
Forgiveness is spoken but shackled in bars.
A love that is promised, yet dangled so high,
Like a kite in a storm, just teasing the sky.

And I wonder—was it You, Lord, who whispered his name?
Or was it my longing that crafted the claim?
Did I paint my own path and call it divine,
While You waited, patient, saying, Not this time?

Maybe it’s me who misunderstood,
Clinging to chains, calling them good.
Trying to fix what was meant to break,
While You whisper, Daughter, let me remake.

For the love I chase leaves me undone,
But the love I need is found in One.
Not in his hands, nor in his call,
But in the hands that formed it all.

So I lay it down, this weary fight,
I trade my will for Heaven’s light.
I may be misunderstood by man, it’s true,
But I am fully known, Lord, by You.