Hot wax cools in the pot while I close my textbook for the last time.

The smell of aloe lingers while my hand is weighed down by the gravity of my keys.

I turn the lock with a heavy heart knowing God ignored my phone calls.

Does he not acknowledge my thirst for the world? 

In my soul, I am whose daughter? 

I feel so lost, so alone. 

My grip on my cup tightens and I have no choice but to submit. 

I kneel at the foot of my bed, look up, and feel the warmth in front of me. 

Is this you Father? 

I clasp my hands and like Atlas’ curse,

 I feel a piece of my hair turn to stone.

Dear God, 

I take your redirection and drink a cup of water. 

I pack away my career and lock away the looming cost of my worldly responsibilities. 

In this moment,

the water is enough.

The grey is beautiful. My keys will unlock new doors.