and fibers fail
unweaving at the edges
I have no bounce
and my bones groan
I cannot wake them
from their sorrow
I am not myself
and maybe it’s chemical
or stress finding chink
to sink in
but I could give a damn,
for relief outruns me
and cheap words rise to mind
I’m sorry for myself.
Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed. Hebrews 12:12-13
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26
In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8
image: Waiting by Connie Chadwell
This is excellent writing, Emily !! Bravo to the poet!
I deeply relate to its content and find dearest compatriot comfort in its words.
You inherited your Mother’s gift of writing. What a treat to read your poetry!