God!
Somedays my prayer is just that appeal. I have no words in my heart, only pain, and that pain can only be opened up in that one syllable.
God!
I can’t do this. Help!
I feel myself an infant, crying meaninglessly, too overwhelmed by it all to make any coherent—any attempt at coherence—any coherent attempt—I don’t know.
God! Help me!
You’ve helped me, I believe you will help me, but locked in this moment of pain and fear and dread—how do the martyrs persevere?
I need your help, God. I am broken. God, save me.
Tale Told 