What you’ve written names a spiritual experience many people are afraid to admit out loud: the absence of felt presence in the midst of real presence. The opening images—curled posture, tunnel vision, dim eyes—aren’t just emotional descriptors; they’re embodied. The soul isn’t abstract here. It lives in a body that has folded in on itself to survive.
What feels especially honest is that prayer doesn’t immediately resolve anything. She communes with her Creator, He is in the room, and yet “the presence of Him feels like nothing.” That line refuses spiritual performance. It tells the truth about seasons where faith is not sensory, not consoling, not warm.
The turning point isn’t emotional relief—it’s revelation without control. The wind arrives ungraspable, unseen, known only by its effects. John 3:8 is doing deep work here: God is not captured, handled, or summoned—only encountered by what He moves, opens, nourishes.
I’m struck by the Eucharistic imagery—the bread, the loaf, the manna—because it insists that nourishment can precede feeling. She eats before she understands. She receives before she feels assured. And the line “believing is more important than feeling” doesn’t dismiss emotion; it places it downstream from trust.
The final image—“closer than a wet sash, the bone and marrow, and remain in-between all of your sweet little heartbeats”—feels like the answer to the opening posture. What began curled inward ends upright, not because feelings changed, but because she was held the entire time.
To me, this poem speaks gently to anyone who has mistaken numbness for absence. It says: God may feel like nothing—and still be nearer than breath.
Kevin, this response moved me unlike any response I have ever gotten. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to respond to this poem. It meant the world. As soon as I read your response I went to the Lord and even talked to Him about it! Your words brought even more light to the poem . . . more revelation . . . more insight. Thank you. Blessings to you and yours, whoever they may be, I know for sure it is a doggy!!! 🩶
This really spoke to me in the depths. I love how she journeys from despondency to being truly seen, truly loved and truly held. The faith walk really is like this at times, sometimes on a daily basis even, but He always brings us back. He restores our soul.
Amen to amen Sally. Sometimes for me... it can even be hourly. Thank you so much for your heart. Appreciate you. I still think of the poem I read of yours... with holding the petals. You are a talent and a gem. Here is the poem I am speaking of for those reading...
Ahhh I am so glad those were the things that jumped and spoke to you Julie. I always appreciate your thoughts and input. Love and miss you my sweet friend, Ashley
What you’ve written names a spiritual experience many people are afraid to admit out loud: the absence of felt presence in the midst of real presence. The opening images—curled posture, tunnel vision, dim eyes—aren’t just emotional descriptors; they’re embodied. The soul isn’t abstract here. It lives in a body that has folded in on itself to survive.
What feels especially honest is that prayer doesn’t immediately resolve anything. She communes with her Creator, He is in the room, and yet “the presence of Him feels like nothing.” That line refuses spiritual performance. It tells the truth about seasons where faith is not sensory, not consoling, not warm.
The turning point isn’t emotional relief—it’s revelation without control. The wind arrives ungraspable, unseen, known only by its effects. John 3:8 is doing deep work here: God is not captured, handled, or summoned—only encountered by what He moves, opens, nourishes.
I’m struck by the Eucharistic imagery—the bread, the loaf, the manna—because it insists that nourishment can precede feeling. She eats before she understands. She receives before she feels assured. And the line “believing is more important than feeling” doesn’t dismiss emotion; it places it downstream from trust.
The final image—“closer than a wet sash, the bone and marrow, and remain in-between all of your sweet little heartbeats”—feels like the answer to the opening posture. What began curled inward ends upright, not because feelings changed, but because she was held the entire time.
To me, this poem speaks gently to anyone who has mistaken numbness for absence. It says: God may feel like nothing—and still be nearer than breath.
Kevin, this response moved me unlike any response I have ever gotten. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to respond to this poem. It meant the world. As soon as I read your response I went to the Lord and even talked to Him about it! Your words brought even more light to the poem . . . more revelation . . . more insight. Thank you. Blessings to you and yours, whoever they may be, I know for sure it is a doggy!!! 🩶
This really spoke to me in the depths. I love how she journeys from despondency to being truly seen, truly loved and truly held. The faith walk really is like this at times, sometimes on a daily basis even, but He always brings us back. He restores our soul.
Beautiful.
Amen to amen Sally. Sometimes for me... it can even be hourly. Thank you so much for your heart. Appreciate you. I still think of the poem I read of yours... with holding the petals. You are a talent and a gem. Here is the poem I am speaking of for those reading...
https://open.substack.com/pub/sallylouisecave/p/the-memory-thief?utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=post%20viewer
I hear you. That is so true. When the battle is thick, it’s even minute by minute!
That is absolutely correct. 🩶 Sending love Sally!
Faith is not a feeling. Communion and the Bread and Blood of Christ given for you. Holy Spirit alive and present within you.
Ahhh I am so glad those were the things that jumped and spoke to you Julie. I always appreciate your thoughts and input. Love and miss you my sweet friend, Ashley
Love this. Gives me peace and I love the flow and art design.
Ahhh thank you Terry!!!! I am so glad you saw how the art tied into the poem but most importantly you felt peace! amen 💙
Ahhh thank you sweet Cristina! 🩶🩷🩶
I appreciate you sweet one ❤️🌹