"Trust Me" He says, and my heart goes bad; fluttering and palpitating...
"Trust Me" He says, and I wanna cry and scratch at the walls, tearing off plaster until my nails bleed. I want control, but have none.
I cry and writhe in agony; impatience a gnarled whisper that tethers and pollutes my soul.
Yet I know he's right...
Still, I rail against him calling him every name in the book and then some.
Pounding the ground, I whimper and moan. The pavement is dented with the weight of my rage. Railing against him I beat at his chest, my fists pummeling into him like sleet; sharp and merciless. And yet he stands; bearing the brunt, looking at me with his gentle, steady gaze, waiting for me to relent. He is patient in calling my name, calling me, to a higher ground, steadfast and sturdy.
"Daughter" He says, and I come, my handkerchief dirty and soaking with tears.
"Come" He whispers, leading me away, his arms around my shoulders enveloping me in peace. "Let's see where he goes" I say to myself. And for now, it is enough.