Angry at God: A Spoken Word Poem on Faith Crisis

God, I think we need to see other people.
Actually, no. I’m breaking up with you.
Because ever since you moved into the neighborhood of my heart,
The property value has plummeted.
Everything is falling apart.

You say that you love me.
But your love feels like an empty waiting room.
Like being the only person at a surprise party that forgot to happen.
You say you’re omnipresent,
But lately, you feel like a ghost who only haunts the happy people.

They tell me, "Walk by faith, not by sight."
But I am tripping over all these prayers that you left on read.
They say everything works together for the good,
But right now, my life looks like a puzzle missing the corner pieces,
And I’m pretty sure you're the one hiding them under the couch.

That night I called 911 on my own sanity,
Begged you to pull me from the wreckage,
And the phone just rang.
What is the excuse?
Are you omnipotent, or just selectively powerful?
Does your Wi-Fi just drop when you get to my zip code?

I know this sounds like blasphemy.
But my heart is just too heavy right now to whisper.

But you want to know the most frustrating part?
The absolute irony of it all?
Is that right underneath the screaming... there is this whisper.
That still, small voice.
Telling me things I already know are true.
And I hate it. I really do!
Because I want to be furious!
I want to throw plates at the wall of salvation!
But your peace keeps catching them right before they break.
And that is so unfair.

I know a seed has to be buried to grow,
But God, I am tired of eating dirt.
I know pain is part of the itinerary,
But I’ve been checking the baggage claim,
and my joy still hasn't arrived.

I am so tired.
I am a sinking ship trying to bail out water with a thimble.
But... I'm not letting go.
Because I've seen the oceans you've parted.
I've seen the giants you've dropped.
I can't pretend you aren't real
when you are the very lungs I am using to yell at you.

So, help me.

If I have to be a garden, then water me.
If I have to be broken, then be the gold that fills in my cracks.
I am so angry with you.
But you are still the only home I have ever known.
So please... just leave the porch light on.

by rachel kapanga