Lord God, Master of the universe,
I am tired as only
a mortal can be.Death weighs
Me down as a baby’s terror cry
from out of the Darkness. Death,
not my own but of seas, but of children,
but of love, these deaths bear down
as I plead for new life.
I am lost
for the moment of how to answer
the weeping of widows, or whipped slaves
invisible or the thrown away children
wandering the streets
of our urine smelling cities.
I tired of friends ripped raw by divorce.
Tired of children being used
as objects of men’s evil desires.
Weary of hearing stories
Which I can not help, for
I am no ones savior.
Tired of the wicked who win
as they break the souls of the weak, win
by cheating, by accusing the lowly,
winning by drying the land into desert,
winning by poisoning the seas. They
Hate you for loving us. They claim you
As the source of their sin they call virtue
as they bomb the innocent.
I tired of being part their company.
I am so tired of my son’s pain, a baby
Born with words misspelled in his genome.
Weary, weary, weary of the anger
That goes by the name of politics.
Pick a side to hate. Kill those
Who want us dead says this logic.
How do we love our enemies?
Weary of being forsaken
on our daily cross, I cry,
“How long do we have to taste
our own blood trickling
from our foreheads?”
I am tired, Lord, of waiting.
So tired, I nearly
Forgot. You are with us. I catch glimpses
Of you, the Word, in the children eyes,
Their heads shaved in fight with cancer. Your
Pierce hand holds me as speak with nurses
Who care in ICU wards. I enter your
Word and find peace with others
because you beckoned me
from my weariness.You
carry the lost sheep home.
Come Lord Jesus, Come.