I found myself hiding in a quiet hour listening for signs of life. But all was silent like hope that has turned into rust. I feel like a porcelain doll that has dropped of the shelf, then glued back together, and then left neglected.
I am weak. I am outside in the rain without a raincoat. I’ve worked for hours and prayed relentlessly but my soul is tired. My heart is weak, a slow beat. I’m an undusted bookshelf and I’m ready for a brand new start.
My toes are numb, my legs go where they will, and my arms already have their life memorized. I cannot move past the here and now. Every morning I shower and then see the reflection of someone I no longer recognize. Paralyzed. Where is the real me?
My dreams are locked in my closest and my wonderment is lost in the breeze. My hands are tired and I’m lying still with a stack of books on my chest.
I act tough and bare this weight on my shoulders.
Wait. I can’t loose you. I need you. I’m holding on to pieces of me. The peices I can’t let go of.
Lord, wait. Don’t leave me. I’m here.