Life lives.
Breeze lifts. Leaves shake
like the zils on a tambourine.
Bees hum.
Birds chirp.
You get it. Life lives
around me.
Not I.
I fall into the shadows of my soul
dying in the darkness.
Helpless.
Alone.
Weary. I weep no more.
Too much.
Noise.
Sin.
Pain. Poisonous pain.
Life lives. NO. Life dies. What’s the point
of living for the sorrow?
Grief.
Raw brokenness.
Help me
or kill me. Just kill me.
Help me, Sweet Jesus. Help. Me.
~~
From fingertips, like blood, I drip
my sin and cares away.
With hands lifted to the sky,
new life rains into me.
Life. Live.
Life lives on.
Jesus.
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