The Recovery

My noisy fingers are my prayers now
Feels like being dropped off at college
all over again
Except that the institution is my mind
and the books have eyes, legs, mouths

They're speaking to me
And you're not.
Will I graduate
I thank you for forgiveness
and for letting me foul up and get up again

But, I cannot figure out how much of this has to do with
faith in myself
and faith in You
So, my fingers are writing my prayers now
My mind is shut down except for the words of
Living epistles

I see now courage is required
even for the simplest thing
With practice we lose alarm
But, this not what we were meant to do
We were meant to be
still
We were meant to test the limits of our strength
Is that still the purpose?