Lord, Have Mercy

I am

a southern woman

having been painstakingly

trained to be

unquestioning

demure – docile 
imagine Scarlett O'Hara
without the sassy attitude
or hoop skirt

raised to be almost
sickeningly sweet
much like

those heaping cupfuls of

refined sugar added

to our

syrupy

iced sweet-tea

Like most here

I accept God

as being real

alive

listening

So, I dared asked him

"Hey, God

do you  

have any faith

left in me"?

I make no apologies

to any reader

whom I might offend

by talking openly of 

matters spiritual

know this …

my upbringing has

shaped my faith

my core

the very person

whom,

in essence,

I am

I’ve been praying

fasting

pleading

for an answer

to my prayers

maybe Jesus took a

holiday

my calls

deferred

to his voice-mail

or perhaps my inquiries have escalated

to be handled by his Dad

our mutual father-God

is it possible

our Creator

has grown tired

from my

too frequent pleading?

I am beseeching him

for an angel

beautiful

celestial messenger

to relate

from here

to near the foot

of heaven’s highest throne 
to whisper

of my

respect

honor

reverence

love

"Hey, God
it's just me again
I have faith in you
yet sometimes I doubt
whether you have faith
in me".