I am still running.
Working hard enough
Love will finally be earned.
Did I complete tasks
asked by voices my own?
Aching to go over
the river where sunflowers
grow on either bank.
In the middle, living water
flows in the house of God,
forever. Your love is strong
quiet for my busied mind.
Am I waiting right?
Should I take control again?
I don’t want the responsibility,
continuously trying my patience
with how I cannot wait.
A child counting the days
until December brings flakes
white as first snow.
My need for You to baptize
my mind, outweighs the cure
for pain only sinners know well:
denial for help, since we are
much better solo. I hate admitting
I can’t wait alone, with questions
presented again & again &
I need Your hand wrapped in my right,
Your face before my brows raising worry
if You’ll come through before I decide
a southbound train to take me further
than a hidden Georgia sun nowhere
near in love as You’ve sworn on the