21 March 2017

psalm 21

psalm 21

I grow weary, waiting
knuckle nerves firing
pain as I grasp that thin rope
my heart often as shredded
as those frayed ends

my cries to You sound
childish, weak, nails scratching
on chalkboard
and You, are not surprised
or annoyed when I call
no, You long for my coming

your answer today, like yesterday
hold on, as if I would seek comfort
elsewhere,  I hold on, and on
to You

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