Wrap Me In Word Turned Flesh

I read the words,

Lead them like a shepherd

and carry them in your arms

forever.

A song plays. announcing

fear stunting my bones,

making me cry quietly.

I can’t do this alone,

yet I’m trying still.

My heart weighs down

a thought: time is running

out, hurry up! Throbbing,

I am Abraham, pleading.

Please Lord, don’t be angry

with me. I am weak, needy,

do not where to turn. I do not

wish death along with the wicked.

I am only dust, but oh Lord,

grab my hand as Lot’s—hesitant lipped,

my tears keep falling, my hands keep

twisting—letting my strength dissolve

into your merciful face. I want to run,

lose my breath for laughter’s sake,

not my soul’s cowering at kindest

smile I will know.

I read Jesus set me free,

my anxiety, fear asking help

breaking unblemished back

I long touch under paled fingertips,

where heartbeat waits pace. Place

gentlest hands under these knee

bends, draw me ear to chest—

rhythmic lullaby soothing consistent

frailty.

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