There’s anger festering inside of me. Anger and exhaustion.
I’m so tired, Umma.
I tried to be good. I tried to make everyone happy. But I can’t
do it.
****
Is this what prayer is?
When you’re on your knees in utter desolation, when all you
can do is cry out without knowing who is out there to hear
you.
I’ve never really prayed my own prayers before.
I’ve never let myself admit my own thoughts before.
All my time was spent trying to live for other people. People
who wouldn’t understand. People who also fall short.
There has to be more to life than smiling and nodding forever.
Bow your head, clasp your hands.
It’s ritual. But what else can I do?
Isn’t this how rituals begin?
Dear God,
****
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
Psalm 73:25-26 (ESV)
Karis Ryu is a junior concentrating in History and East Asian Studies.
16 Spring 2020