Ann Foster | + Follow Poet |
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The Chair

The Chair

     Calls out my name. 
     It is ever at the side of the bed. 
     Waiting there for me to climb in. 
     Expectantly. Faithfully?

God said get up and carry your load. 
He said to walk on. 
He never said it was okay to give up. 
He has not called you home. 
I am sure of that, as I am still here.  
    
     I have not given up, but I am old. 
     I am tired and my time is soon. 
     What difference could I make? 
     What changes could be wrought by my words, 
     my deeds, my testimony?
     What truths could be gained? 
     In the mirror sad eyes of all things gone wrong, 
     stare back into mine, every day.
     (because I let them… without a fight) 
     The debate to remain as part of the furniture…continues.
     My voice, sure that everything has already been tried. 

You have seen things. You have history still to speak of…
You have a future, you are setting aside, while you are setting. 
It needs to be passed on to the young, and told again to the old, 
to remember forever, “God is King!”
Your answer, your response, I am crippled. 

God laughs. God smiles. Sometimes, He gets mad. 
Parting seas, killing giants, winning battles, and feeding the multitudes, 
healing, saving and bringing eternal life…
The words from my mouth, “The chair, it is not fair. It has no heart, no soul and only takes. Do not let it win.” 

The angels sing when glory is lifted to the high mountaintops of heaven. 
The Lord sits upon his throne, and prepares. 

It is not to say that you are doing less. 
It is not judgment of any kind. 
Grace is yours, as He sees you clearly.
He loves you dearly.
Yet, still I am cheering at you. I am telling you…
You are free. You are free indeed. 
Walk, don’t sit. 
Then don’t walk, run. 
Then don’t run, dance, and then prance. 
Do it all at once, at the same time. 
A miracle is waiting for you. 

Maybe you will be still stuck in that chair. 
That has nothing to do with what I am talking about. 
Read it again and… then.

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