Psalm for those afflicted with Lyme disease.
For the ones who suffer in silence,
Whose battles are hidden beneath the skin.
O source of all healing,
You who knit the sinews and stir the blood,
Do you see us,
The ones whose suffering hides in plain sight?
We are pierced not once,
But daily,
By confusion,
By dismissal,
By the slow erosion of strength.
The poison entered quietly in the tall grass,
In the forest hush,
And made its home in marrow and mind.
It fractured our clarity,
Unspooled our stamina,
And left us wandering in a fog not of our choosing.
O holy one,
You are the keeper of our chemistry and the weaver of wellness.
Why have the wise not yet found the map back to wholeness?
Why must we beg to be believed?
Yet still we breathe,
Still we rise.
Still we whisper hallelujah between waves of pain and stretch trembling hands towards your presence.
Strengthen our inner fire when the body falters.
Bless our broken nights with a flicker of comfort.
And send us companions,
Healers who listen,
Friends who stay,
And angels disguised as doctors,
Researchers,
And advocates.
Let the sacred antibodies of love defend our spirit.
Let grace be the IV that runs through our days.
May every cell remember its divine origin and return little by little to balance.
O healer of the afflicted,
Place balm on the weary soul.
Speak peace into the inflammation.
And let this long illness be transmuted into holy wisdom.
Amen.