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  • Writer's pictureEryn McMillan

Have you not been listening?

Have you not heard my screams?

My child I have stood so close that my breath sent chills down your neck . . . close enough to trace the creases in your skin.

My once screams now bellowing whispers.


Are you listening?


Have you become so out-of-tune that my voice has become nothing but stereo silence?

Have my words become so foreign that they are unrecognizable?

My child, where are you?

You have strayed so far from my path.

I am here. Waiting. Watching. Will you ever call me?


Come home.


When did my promises become so dull to you?

When did my commands become optional?

When did I become less?


My child I am here . . . waiting.


Arms stretched, heart open, ready for you.

Bind thy wondering heart to thee.

I see the pain you are hiding behind that smile.

I see the exhaustion in your soul.

The twinkle in your eyes have grown dim.

Your joy is gone.


Be restored my child.


Drink. For I am the living water.

Drink from me and you will be overflowing.

Eat my child.

Devour the Bread of Life.

Never grow weary

For I am the way, the truth, and the life.

I will bring you out of the pit and instill a new song in your heart.


Are you listening my child?


Come home.

I am here.

Waiting for YOU!

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