You may have noticed this, but I don’t pray much about it and its essence on me. I never prayed for it because I’m afraid. I am afraid that if You, my Lord, warrant me to have it, I’ll stumble and just cry. I am afraid that I might not want to hold it the way people should handle it. I am afraid that If I close my eyes holding the rose that you’ve given me, that would wither in the morrow. I am afraid that instead of making me better it would destroy me and tear me to tiny little pieces until I am ashes ready to be let go and forgotten. I am afraid that I may not see sunsets the same way I see them with my naked eye. I am afraid that I will come to the point of doubting myself and questioning humanity. I am afraid to give it for I am not even sure if I have given it to myself. So, I never prayed for it- for love. Well, I did- the time when I fell in love with the person who I imagined my hands, wrinkled and shaky, locked in his, creased but strong. When that image started to fade, my prayers for love begun to be a whisper and now, there is silence.
Do you remember the time when I was fifteen and I told you about this boy who gave me three pink roses which he picked from his teacher’s garden in school? I asked you why he gave me those, I received no answer. And oh! Do you remember when I told you about my crush unexpectedly inviting me for a dance during our school’s party? You knew that I did not know how to dance with a partner with a slow music in the background playing, but I did it gracefully and You knew that I was blushing that I felt my face was too hot and might give off lava soon. Thinking about it right now makes me giddy. I asked you if he likes me, and I thought you shrugged. Do you still remember when I visited You at Your home at noon with the sun high up, crying because I saw my ex-boyfriend’s arm slung around a girl’s shoulders? Oh God! You also knew how embarrassed I was, because it was too late to realize that there was a cleaner looking at me from what seemed to be like when I started crying until the end. But, I brushed off the embarrassment and asked you if you can take away the pain, but you smiled and tapped me on my back.
Love is a beautiful gift. It makes people special, cherished, and significant. Love has eyes so lovely and lips so red. It has blushing cheeks and lips curved into a smile. It makes people oddly happy. Love is life itself. But, God, my Lord, a strong and deep love is what I am afraid to pray. It might destroy me instead of making me better. Love makes and it also breaks. I am afraid that If you give me that as present, I might die sad and miserable. Love is not easy as it is not luck. It needs hardwork, committment and passion- the things that I am still rebuilding now. I hope, he, whoever, he is, hangs on a second or more, until such time that I will fearlessly and confidently pray for him. Because now, I am just afraid to pray for love- for him.
(Photo from www.richfaithrising.com)