Patience, you slay me
with your silence.
No answers, no exit, no relief
for months.
Yet every day you sit beside me
as we watch the sun rise again.
This trial of waiting
strips me dry.
I am weary, spent, drained
of newness
and my hope is dwindling.
You tilt your ear to the morning birdsong,
reminding me
of the flock’s long flight north
and God’s faithfulness in their journey.
You remind me of their limits,
their small size, their vulnerability.
Yet He carries them
on the wind currents
helping them find food
where I would never think to look.
No answers, no exit, no relief for months. Yet every day you sit beside me as we watch the sun rise again. Click To TweetBut
what about the long days left?
The days when I am too seen,
scrutinized and pinned
like a wriggling beetle
under a microscope.
The days when I am unseen,
marginalized and excluded
because I matter as much
as a beetle creeping
under a bookcase.
I want to be thankful.
I want to be faithful.
I want to be patient.
But today it’s all too much.
Hot tears trickle
from the corners of my eyes.
“I can’t do this,” I say.
“I can’t stand this wait any longer.”
You cup my face in your hands
and I catch the scent
of your lovely fruit
as you whisper
I will carry you through.
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