To Late

I call but it's to late. Now I find myself jumbling my words on a voice recording. Why was it so hard to call? If I am honest, and I hate to admit it, its the past, the past that won't let go. The past whispers her deceptive lies in my ear. She tells me I'm not good enough, you will surely be rejected. Oh how I hate rejection, the truth is I have never fallen so hard, I can honestly say that never ever have I felt this way. But it is the fear that holds me here, stuck, frozen in time. When will I be thawed, When will I be healed, When will I be accepted for who I am, uniquely imperfect? As I wait I peer into the sky up above, through the clouds I search for your face, eagerly awaiting an answer. Then the words come, spoken softly at first then they erupt, "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saves a wretch like me, I once was lost but now I'm found, was blind, but now I see". As the wind picks up the blades of grass nod in agreement to the words just sung.