From the Ground Up
Oh how I'm so tired of feeling tired.....
Weak and helpless, as if my days have been spent.
Bent double, crippled backwards, now cast aside.
It seems that, one by one, my organs crumble,
back into the dust from which I was made.
Sharp pains shoot like bullets but stab like knives,
catching any lingering breath in a vice-like clamp.
My head fogged, in a piercingly thick cloud that fails to lift, and renders all intelligence useless.
And oh how weakness scowers my body helpless,
too listless to perform daily life or even simple chores.
My mind fails me now,
words no longer elegantly arranged in meticulous form.
Alas, my mind plays tricks of which my vision is victim,
and now my hearing has joined in the lucid facade.
Despite everything, I pray for peace in this turbulent time.
Even as I grow weaker, I shall remain steadfast in my Lord.
He shall deliver me from all ills, through all adversity,
all in His time, through His power.
Until I reside in greener pastures, his work through me complete,
and he can lovingly call me home.
07.06.2021
Copyright © Charlotte Watkins | Year Posted 2021
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