A Confused Conversation with Christ

Is it alright if I tell you something? I am angry. Never mind, I know how the conversation will go.

“Let me be, for I am angry, I know I’m not supposed to be” says I.

“Why are you angry?” you say in reply.

“My life is in ruins,” is my response,

“I am defeated, and my heart beats not.

I must scream, I just yell,

For I shall make my bed in hell.

I cannot explain my hurt to you,

For no one understands, And they twist my words askew.

I am not angry at God, I think, nor am I angry with you,

I am angry with myself because I have this hatred no man can subdue.”

You wait as I finish, as I scream and I cry.

You listen as I give you all the reasons I want to die.

Then, ever so softly, you embrace me as I shake,

You wipe my tears, then you address my fears.

“I know you are angry, You have suffered greatly.

Scream if you must, go ahead and yell,

I will not let you lay your head in hell.

I have hurt, I have been alone,

I was beaten, torn, and had not a home.

I am a man, but I am God too, I can take the hatred away from you.

I died so you can be free, Free from anger and hate and agony.

I shall do what no man can do, I will carry you, breathe on you, heal you.”

Before I know it,

I am in your arms,

Safe, protected, and far from harm.

This is not how I thought this conversation would go,

But you have snatched me from death’s valley below.

The valley of anger, of hatred, of strife.

Before I knew it, you had given me life.