How can one live with the truth
if the truth is one that says
that the monster in the mirror
is us?
How can one live with that
awful truth
and not die of sorrow,
of loneliness,
of unworthiness?
How can one ever hope
to be loved
when one knows how unlovable
one really is?
For what can one offer
her beloved
if not the thorns
that surround her very heart?
What can one expect to receive
if not fear, and if not rejection
for all the darkness
that one really has?
O, that my darkness
could turn into light,
and that my emptiness,
be filled with good!
O, that a kind hand
may lead me somewhere safe,
safe even from the horror
of who I really am.
Maybe then though I cry,
I might find some comfort;
though I hurt and cause others pain,
I might find healing and forgiveness.
Though I fail,
I might hope to keep on trying,
Though I die, I might believe,
and I might live again!
“I have been trying to make the reader believe that we actually are, at present, creatures whose character must be, in some respects, a horror to God, as it is, when we really see it, a horror to ourselves. This I believe to be a fact: and I notice that the holier a man is, the more fully he is aware of that fact.” – C.S. Lewis
The thing about hope is that it’s a positive force that shines the most when it’s dark. When everything’s going well, we hardly notice it’s there. But when things go against us, when our dreams fade and when we see no immediate reprieve from our troubles, that’s when hope does its best work for us.
"Where Hope Can Be Found"