Blood on the Path

I was told that change is bitter, that the price of growth is paid in blood. They never spoke of the fire it ignites in your chest the kind of fire that consumes without warning, that leaves nothing untouched, nothing unscarred. The weight of choice crushes my spirit, logic battling emotions, what must be done against what I desire. It’s like a mother in labor, her body torn open to bring forth life, her soul warring with every contraction, every choice that strips her raw. Every day, I fall to my knees, my heart a trembling mess of hope and despair. My eyes are silent screams, messages my soul cannot hold back. I seek strength in the dark, searching for light in the brokenness, and he answers with fresh manna, but still, the hunger aches. Change is never easy. To reach the palace, I must walk through fire. The road is stained with the blood of those who came before, and I, too, must stain my hands, not in defeat, but in the sacrifice it demands.... Lord, I cannot walk this path alone. I cannot carry the weight without You. Walk with me for I am weary.