When I feel the need to defend myself to the universe,
words fall flat.
There are never enough words to balance out the weight of weakness, the sting of sarcasm,
so why not be content to let criticisms fall where they will,
knowing that Maker picks them up and carries them in His own woundedness.
somehow I feel like my limping justifications and explications carry more weight in the bigger scheme of things.
they only fuel the contempt railed against me. So
I will rest—help me rest in You.