I woke up this morning,
saw the stain on the pink sheets
and thought my heart must have bled.

I came out on the porch swing,
watching a situation unravel
tears I can’t say are lambent.

I keep blinking, staring, waiting,
my heart weighted down by thought
I have once again failed.

Condemnation I’ll give myself,
so if anyone else decides
throwing in their two cents,

I’ll already have worried myself enough
my ears won’t register them.

Jesus, how the wind moves
Your fragrance toward my pitying soul: You’re mine.
I’m holding out My hand.

See this wrist?
I bled your condemnation,
filled you with My love.

Place your palm in Mine.
My rod & staff forever
your guide


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