I FEEL LIKE I HAVE NOT SLEPT
My eyelids struggle to fight
the good fight but I’m FAILING
to rise to the morning light
Is like a tug of war
between my every desire
to go back to sleep
and dream of better things
than what I have planned for my week
and the schedule I have to keep on
keep on keepin’ on keep on
TELLING myself that if God
had intended me to rest
he would have made the Sabbath
But I got to tell you the ever growing
sense of defeat is mounting its forces
in my head casing more than a shadow
of reasonable doubt
that I am worthless
but I AM NOT WORTHLESS
I shout into my pillow
as I roll over, reach for my alarm clock
tell it to shut up and fight the urge
to connect head with pillow again.
I believe my idea of rest is broken.
I believe that all this mess is against
the things you intended for us
“Oh,” you say
“God never gives us more than we can handle,” Well, well, if that’s the truth
Then he must make it a regular habit
of bending me until I’m creaking, cracking
Pieces of myself scatter like shards
of a window pane cracked with a
precise stone’s throw on a daily basis
and I can’t help but wonder if this is
all there is to this existence.
Stand, break, shake, shatter, fall.
And FALL AGAIN.
NOW GET UP
AND SADDLE THAT HORSE, SON The sun ain’t set yet and
there’s work yet to be done.
But I don’t want to spend my days
slaving away at a job
that sucks my soul away,
Where I feel like I’m less than human
and all I care about is the paycheck
to paycheck experience.
I want my bills to get paid,
I just didn’t think my soul
would feel so tarnished from the process.
But this is a chain I’ve forged
for myself in the process
a gold chain, and a small one too. These hands weren’t built
for anything to fancy.
So, it’s not much but
I want to loop it around your neck
with no strings attached,
just a pendant in the shape of a dove
and watch you carry it out of here
So everyone can see that
at some point in time
Someone actually had the nerve
to think about flying free.
And when that dove decides to take flight
I’ll ask you politely to unhook that chain
and set it loose
against the night sky.
But that freedom just ain’t for me
Just not yet, at least.
I want an orchestra to bring life
to this current existence,
breathe life into it all with
the brass section taunting the air
with retorts of punctuated syllables of songs
While the string section reaches
back from the depths and strike a chord
while the percussion beats, blasts, batters
and bangs battle royales against
the waves of the air
if nothing more than to sing your song to me.
I pray that you’ll sing along with
as both the conductor and the vocalist
and with fevered pitch I’d join you
in this hallelujah chorus
If only for a moment you’d give me
rest in this song then I would sing to you
another refrain, belted out with all I have
and all I’ve gained, pushing from the depths
of my very gut strings until you can hear my vocal cords
And then I’d tear it all down,
throw it all away and smash it to pieces
until all that’s left is the echo
against the walls of these once great halls
because nothing good lasts forever
like vapor and vanity they perish like
windchasers and dust in the breath of the air
Let’s build a fountain of living water
with busted up flutes for pipes and
broken pieces of ourselves for
the body of it all
and let the water pump from a heart
built deep within
but still living,
its life new but ancient all the same
So i can drink from it readily
and let me never thirst again
Let me drink you in
IT FEELS LIKE I HAVE NOT SLEPT
FOR WEEKS AT LEAST
So, for my sake, please give me a break
and grant me solace from this dis-ease
the one that keeps me sleeping without
sleeping, the rest without rest.
I know I don’t deserve it
and I’ve strived against it all to make it this far
so I’m begging you to, please
just GIVE ME REST.
For I feel
betrayed, beaten, battled, bloodied
baffled, and bereaved.
But your grace is sufficient
dead, dodged, defeated
desolate, destroyed and damaged
Still your grace
Because I am
Busted up, broken down, riled up,
ripped up, ransacked, raided and robbed
and I can’t shake this feeling that there’s this
devil at my back telling me I can’t do this.
I can’t do this.
I CAN’T DO THIS
So, please intercede as the one
who declared the seventh day of creation
as one for rest and show me the way
out of this overexcited and overloaded mess.
Father, give me rest.
Give me rest.