God Forbid

God forbid I admit

I don’t always know what I’m doing.

God forbid I stop pretending I’m fine.

I learned early how to pray with clean hands,

how to smile through doubt,

how to thank God for things that still hurt.

There were nights I sat on the edge of my bed,

asking for signs,

then feeling guilty for asking at all.

Is faith supposed to feel this lonely?

Or is this just part of becoming honest?

I carried shame like it was devotion.

I called silence “patience.”

I called fear “respect.”

But somewhere along the way,

I started telling the truth instead.

What if God isn’t offended by questions?

What if doubt is just another form of reaching?

God forbid I stop whispering

and finally speak out loud.