The Veil of Darkness

I’m convinced it breaks God’s heart 

when we build a home inside our grief

 and refuse to come out.

Once upon a time,
I loved a man
who was still mourning
the ghost of someone else.

And somehow,
I mistook his brokenness
for a calling.

It became the most toxic,
soul-altering,
self-abandoning season of my life.

Yet my heart kept whispering lies
louder than wisdom could speak:
Love him harder.
Stay longer.
Sacrifice deeper.

So I did.

I laid my morning glory at the feet
of someone determined
to live in yesterday’s darkness.

Every sunrise,
I emptied myself—
pouring loyalty,
grace,
gentleness,
and unwavering love
into hands
that never learned how to hold me back.

I kept wading into muddy waters,
believing my suffering
would someday convince him
of my worth.

But no amount of bleeding
can heal a person
committed to their own bondage.

And the harder I fought
to prove I was enough,
the farther away love drifted.

Until my prayers changed.

From:
“God, give me the patience to endure this.”

To:
“God, give me the courage to release what is destroying me.”

And suddenly—
the curtain fell.
The music died.
The fantasy unraveled beneath the reality of truth.

What I once called love
was really my fear
of walking away empty-handed.

Now, when disappointment
tries to replay heartbreak
like a scratched vinyl spinning in circles,

I silence it
with the promises of God
and seal my healing with praise.

Because I know this much for certain:

God is not the author of confusion,
chaos,
or counterfeit love.

He does not ask His daughters
to shrink,
bleed,
or betray themselves
in the name of loyalty.

And He will never bless
what destroys the soul.

Sin was never my destiny.
Bondage was never my identity.
Grief was never meant
to become my permanent residence.

I was called to heal.
Called to rise.
Called to be loved in truth—
not tolerated in confusion.

So I no longer mourn
what God removed.

I thank Him
for closing the door
I was too wounded to walk away from myself.