He is a toy cowboy on a horse
and is dragged off into the sunset
while my stuffed bunny heart
waits in the backdrop to be held.
Our God is the small Girl who hides
under beds when yelling strikes.
When She cries, we wait for Her
and hope that the weather calms.
What can my cotton heart say
to a Girl who can barely walk?
How to beg for a new purpose
while I lay stuck in Her childhood.