I read the words,
Lead them like a shepherd
and carry them in your arms
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