Stop running

Am I a writer of poetry attempting long forms

or am I a writer of broken prose 

that tends toward poetic expression?

I am choosing to waste no time 

attempting to categorize myself 

as anything more than a pen in His hand.

I have run from the gifts He has given.

I have run into the gifts.

I have banged my head and stubbed my toes

and bear the scars and bruises.

At times I would prefer to paint

or dance

or sing

but He gives as He chooses

to suit His will.

I have run into the gifts

I have run from the gifts

fingers tender from the keyboard

too many pens rattling in my purse

He knows who He has called

what I cannot do, He can.

In that, I find my rest.

 

hooking up to Lisa-Jo talking about rest