There’s a prayer I’ve whispered so many times,
I don’t even need the words anymore.
It lives in my breath —
in the pause between heartbeats,
in the tears that come without warning.

Sometimes, I feel embarrassed to bring it up again.
Like I should’ve moved on by now.
Like maybe God is tired of hearing the same request
from the same voice
with the same ache.

But then I remember:
God is not like us.
He doesn’t grow weary of repetition.
He doesn’t keep score.
He just keeps listening.

So I bring it again.
Not because I don’t trust —
but because I do.

Because when you keep praying for the same thing,
you’re not being weak.
You’re being brave.

You’re believing
that even silence can be holy
and that maybe, just maybe,
this prayer is forming something in you, too.

He still hears you.
Even now. Even again.