Lent — day thirty-three

Being a human,
I get hungry.
Rarely can I put my finger
on what I truly want,
so I sift everything
through, until I cannot eat
anymore. Then, I wallow
and hold my stomach
and ache for whatever
I truly wanted.
Being a human,
I get tired.
So tired my ears buzz
and my eyes cross
and my hands and lips move,
but they move as a mechanism,
an echo.
This is a confession,
that I can barely stand
on my own.
Further – to fall into Strength
that promises, longs, to
uphold all I cannot,
is a struggle.
Grace is a gift:
a cool breeze,
new, bright, downy life
on trees and in the ground,
a torrent when we need it.
I don’t know that grace
is always gentle.
I think sometimes it’s a wind storm,
charging with all it is to sweep
my stubborn, weary feet up,
and down at last into
the resting place, where I know
it’s okay to be a human.
and to feed every ache
with everything in sight.
It’s okay.
And yet, there is ever more.
With every breath, a new creature
is taking deeper form. Every step
is learning to walk again.


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