Heaven seems so far away,
With all the stresses
And complications
Of the here and now.

My little worries
That seem so glaring
Threaten to stifle

My joy and peace.
My obsessions,
My distractions,
My weaknesses,

All seem to pile up
Inside my mind.
When will I be free?
Shouldn’t it be easier

Than this?
When will I overcome
That which stands
In my way?

When will I be
When will I be
More holy?

Is it happening
As I speak,
With all my struggles,
My regrets,

My shame?
Why do I have
To carry this burden?
But then, perhaps,

It was my choice
To pick it up
To begin with.
I dig my own grave.