“Pray for You”
A poem about letting go
Every time I think of you, I think to pray for you.
I pray for you because the residual love I’m not supposed to have for you perpetuates this feeling of wanting you to be well, and I can see nothing more loving than telling God about you and asking him to bless you and help you.
I pray and every time I do, tears come to my eyes. I pray for you as if I am burying my face in Jesus’s lap, saying in between each tear that if the only thing to come from this relationship was to lead you closer to God, then it was worth it.
I pray for you because I can’t talk to you anymore. Or I shouldn’t. Or both. Everything I want to tell you, I tell God, and it feels like I’m sending letters to Santa.
I pray for you because you were different. I pray for you because despite everything that happened, I believe you really did love me. And I really loved you.
I pray for you because my heart hurts, and I think deep down, there is something that tells me to pour those painful feelings out before God.
I pray for you because I’m sure the people around me are sick of hearing about you. I pray because God won’t.
I pray because I feel lost. I’m doing everything I can to heal, and I feel like I’m sinking despite all my best efforts. Praying for you gives me control over something…
I pray for you because I don’t know if anyone else has loved you in this way. It breaks my heart to know the pain you have experienced. I pray that the God who loves me can envelope you in that same love.
I pray for you because you are on my mind continually. I know one day, I may forget to pray for you or the prayers get gradually less and less.
But I pray that by then, you won’t need them. I pray that you find your way.
