Sunday

There’s the familiar question:
You are fine if I tell you everything I’m learning?
A little girl speaking from a furrowed heart awaiting punishment.

It’s immediate to wear this mask,
frown lines heavy with this tension
I’m burdening someone.
Friends and my mother tell me infinite times:You are not burdening.
You are fine. I love you. I value you.

I crave look beyond my disadvantaged body with the step,
step, pause walk. The fisted right hand, unclenching when I’m alone.
A left foot stuck in the same direction, right always forward.

My left pulls me to the belief
I must never ask for help.
I can do life on my own.
I’ve seen since I was born.
Tired, weak souls carrying loads
meant muscle past our own.

When You said: Boast weakness. I will make your path straight, I feared my trust in You.
You’re the One I can lean my trembling fears, body, hearing promise unbroken: I will uphold you.

These rimple question marks will smooth out soon enough, My child.
Keep holding my hand, My blessing shall run through, overcoming you.

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