The sun rises
with its murder of crows,
and I fight the spoon
that feeds me another
hour of prayers unanswered.
Is there a god who doesn’t
bind me to a hymn that
sings only heaven will
bring freedom?
The gravel beneath my feet
never grows softer.
My spirit is too raw to
even form a scar.
I’ve bled my heart into
journal pages, carried matches
to light candles that never stay lit.
I’m so weary I’ve grown deaf
to my bones begging me to rest.
I fear I’m becoming as silent
as those I thought would speak.
Susie Clevenger 2023
I can hear the bone deep fatigue here, Susie, from warrioring for so long and needing to warrior still. The spoon "that feeds me another hour of prayers unanswered" really hits the heart. I am so sorry for all you are going through.
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