You can’t do enough right.
You can’t wishful-think the dark edges of reality away—
it will come.
It will come unbidden,
unrehearsed and unwanted.
And it will sting like the devil.
But though I walk in the shadows,
a holy light prepares at least one step,
maybe even two.
And I stumble,
not predicting safety, not earning grace,
just grasping in desperate reliance on a sure Lord
who even dwells in desperate and dark places.