If You choose, You can make me well

Have anger and resentment made sterile my hope? Why is darkness so dark? I see not even a flicker of light. How long will this pilgrimage of uncertainty, injustice and obscurity last? I know not the contours of this mission. How is hope to prevail, walking blindfolded through a busy city street? Is hope sufficient in dark days such as these? Must hope be the only light in a scapegoats journey to the edge of the cliff? When one must ponder uncertain, whether they are the victim or not, proves to be a victimhood well declared. Where does the scapegoat find time for forgiveness? Will justice remove the scapegoats haunting memories before they become etched in a heart of stone? Welcoming the scapegoat back into the fold may be easy but returning as the scapegoat is not as easy for its a lot harder not recognizing the fingerprints left on your head by your comrades. Knowing not the source of one's suffering is suffering enough. How long must "knowing not" be the only thing of which I am certain? Teach me forgiveness O Lord lest I harden like mud on a sunny day. Clay in the hands of the potter am I. Forgive me Lord for fighting angrily against Your loving design. Your silence or my perception of Your silence has resulted in me trusting less in Your plan mostly because I recognize not the contours of the path before me. Adrift where the sea will freely take me. Need I know where?