My dearest friend,
please be merciful.
Those I love mock me,
how I stare back, blinking,
because I know holding my tongue
will benefit my soul, though I long
fulfilling my fleshly desire to fight.
Yell, Jesus is in love with you!
And me with these slow moving
legs, desiring the worldly prize for
every word I pen. From Your mouth,
crying back to my spirit, groaning
wait no longer. I am afraid world’s
definition of success will kill my love
You gave at first thought of my name
upon Your lips. Breathing formation
inside Mother’s womb-a hope
trustworthy to place this turned
down face. Rejected as I praise
Your name. Cry for You as my Savior,
bring me close to Your bosom with
the compassion a mother has on her
child. Whisper peace you leave, not
as the world gives through wealth,
my name known in well-received
magazines, a house level enough
I can go in and out with ease.
No, the all surpassing peace beyond
my understanding. I can’t lean on
myself: my feeble bones, thoughts
turned words, will. Your arms,
everlasting, I long fall deep inside.
Where the hate they wield as a
sword thrusted down my ached
heart, will be unheard by my ears,
delighting in promise not forsaken:
You can rest, My child. The harm has
brought you back to whom you
belong. My heart, your home.