A very close friend of mine died last week of cancer.
I am currently in a weird zone in which I struggle to accept that she is gone. More than the mourning is a palpable weight of tiredness that probably is my body’s way of expressing grief.
I remember writing a poem about this tiredness before…
You’ve said come unto Me and I will give you rest, Lord.
You know the end from the beginning, so You know how strange these last days will be.
But sometimes I feel bogged down … tired.
I’m tired of hearing how heavy the enemy’s yoke of oppression is on some of Your children.
I get tired of seeing how folks can’t pay their rent
Or feed their children
Or get a job
Or keep their job.
I grow tired of learning of marriages on the rocks
Of friends destroying friends over crap
Of demons giving saints a hard time.
I’m longing for a better country –a heavenly one.
I want to see You in the hopeless situations.
I search to find Your presence in the cries of those whose lives are filled by the material but bankrupt of the spiritual.
I’m tired, Lord.
I’m tired of seeing the dogs and whoremongers claim victory
Of distrusting my own tribe
And finding out that what I hate most about the enemy lives right within me.
I’m tired of smiling with those I should shoot
Of turning the other cheek.
I’m tired of the cold, the grey, the coats, the opaque tights,
The traffic, the nonsmiles, the nonsense that is passed off as sense.
I’m longing for a better country–a heavenly one.
I’m tired of waiting to exhale.
I have no breath left.