Psalm XIII (pt. 1)

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Pivot.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
Grass parts beneath my feet as I pace hither and tither,
As if this monotonous marching will sufficiently release the charged conglomeration bubbling to the surface of my spirit,
Ready to burst at any moment.
Fear, confusion, desire, frustration, hope, anger.
The wind picks up and these concerns rise with it, 
Twirling and billowing around me as if to remind me of their very real presence.
But Your presence is more real, my God.
Amidst all of this I know I have a way out:
I could return to the place from which I came
Or I could make the terrifying leap off the cliff into Your arms.
A brutally honest self-reflection tells me that I’ve not really given myself an option,
That I will end up jumping.
Peering over the cliff edge I am enticed by the adventure, exhilaration and adrenaline that will come from the leap.
Yet I want to make this decision not for the things that come with it but to draw closer to You, to trust You more.
And so in the midst of my troubles I sit on the overhang,
Knowing with confidence that I will jump into Your arms,
But waiting for confirmation from You that my heart is in the right posture to do so.