How many times have I begun again? How many dusty shrines, dismantled altars, furious denials have I given You? How many nights of crushing certainty have I heard a voice that isn’t Yours but sounds so much more like it than You ever have? How many times has it whispered in my ears no, no, I couldn’t love you, just look at you. You know what you are.
But the sun also rises, the nights also end. The first beginnings are nothing compared with this. To aspire to light from the depths of darkness is to tear myself to shreds, to rip myself apart in search of something You could like only to have You gather up my discarded darkness and clothe me in it like a Queen.
I know what I am.
I know these battles do not end because I have a moment of blinding light in Your presence. I know that night must always follow day, and I know that my darkness is soaked in my blood and tears and terror. I know what I am.
I know that love is to begin again after failure, to begin over and over and over because I will never be perfect, and I know that devotion is to love You in spite of myself.
I know that tonight I will know in my heart that You never spoke to me, never loved me, never wanted me, and I know that tomorrow I will wake and love You in spite of it.
I know that devotion is beginning again every day, because there is no other way for me now.