Sincerely, A Bed

She’s sitting on me again.

She’s curled up, cross-legged

underneath all the blankets.

I think she’s afraid.

No, I know –

she isn’t talking.

Not that there’s another

person who can calm

excitement turned worry.

It’s been days, listening,

holding her up as she sobs,

Jesus, why don’t you love me?

Please give me this, oh don’t

give me that—I don’t want to leave,

perform, shame myself again.

This is pitiful, how she doesn’t believe

her beauty isn’t embarrassed cheeks.

I’ve felt her smile touch me, and I

wish I could imitate such a gesture.

Let her know she’s not alone.

I’d hold her forever inside

my warmth, since this Jesus guy

makes her sad, anxious, angry.

She’s been waiting on him for answers.

The tension in her muscles grows

each day, sinch her bones

first sunk into me.

A friend asked if she’d like

going to church.with her tonight.

She seemed rather excited at first.

I mean, a smile came match quick

from what I could tell anyway.

Then, I felt the sigh I know well now—

the slow burnout through ink.

No doubt a poem.

I think Jesus is going to be at this church.

She has been alone, lonely,

even when she’s around people.

If these people ask questions

at this church, she may cry.

She told another girl yesterday,

she’s quiet with everyone.

She’d rather listen.

I wish she would lean

back into me, her burden

I’d take gladly.

Maybe looking up

could bring this invisible

fear breathing room.

Maybe the prayer would find

her lips again:





Her moving thumb to finger

reminding she has nothing to fear

Her Father loves her so.

I want her to see with her heart

how much.

This isn’t me, but Father,

I hate seeing this girl weepy.

Give her reason to smile, laugh again.

There’s no sad face during Christmas season!

Author’s Note: Inspired by this awesome story. Thank you, Kristi! ❤


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