I write poetry when I’m sad or tired. I’m not sad, but I am tired. So here’s a tired poem du jour:

Raising my head is too much an effort
Until You lift my chin
And I gaze into Your life
Taking step upon step is tiresome
Until You pad my feet
With grace underneath
Listening to others’ pain excruciates
Until I understand Your own,
Your ability to shoulder many griefs
Holding wounds others inflicted stifles
Until I see the wounds I carved
Into your hands with selfishness
Releasing weariness seems improbable
Until I hear Your watering voice
Refreshing my languished heart