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Thank you for visiting Komugisa.

I’m always happy to hear from readers, fellow believers, and anyone seeking encouragement, guidance, or meaningful conversation. Whether you have a question, feedback, a prayer request, or would like to discuss a collaboration, feel free to get in touch.


Thank you for being part of this community. I look forward to hearing from you.

Blessings,

Komugisa

Email:
hello@komugisa.com


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This Is Where I Start Being Honest

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Today I finally started this. Komugisa. These quiet pages where I can say the things I don’t say out loud to anyone. I don’t know who will find them or if they’ll even matter, but keeping it all inside was starting to feel heavier than the silence I’ve been carrying. So here I am, typing with tired fingers, pausing every few lines because the words get stuck sometimes. I’ve been in this season for what feels like forever now. The prayers have become so short and worn out. Most nights I just whisper the same thing: “I’m still here, God.” Nothing fancy. No big declarations of faith. Just that. And then the silence answers back, the way it always does lately. I try not to let it shake me, but some mornings it does. I pretend I’m fine when my mum calls. I reply to friends with “Doing well!” and a heart emoji, then put the phone face down and feel the emptiness rush back in. If you’re reading this right now and something in your chest just tightened... I see you. I know what it’s like to be...
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This afternoon I stood at the kitchen counter chopping onions for no real reason, just to keep my hands busy. The knife moved slowly while I muttered another prayer under my breath, the same one I’ve said for months now. “Open a door, Lord. Any door.” The words felt flat against the sound of traffic outside my window. Nothing in the air changed. The onions just made my eyes sting more, and I wiped my face with the back of my hand, pretending it was only from the cutting. I’ve been consistent with it, you know? Not the big dramatic prayers anymore, but the steady ones. In the middle of my workday when emails pile up and I feel invisible. While walking back from the market with heavy bags digging into my palms. Even in those random moments when a song comes on and my chest tightens for no clear reason. I pray for movement, for clarity, for something to finally break open in this stuck place. But the days keep folding into each other without a single sign. Today at work I sat through anot...
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