In this exacting time
it is a tempting fruit
hanging low
so easily accessible
to prioritize
my own losses.
Inherently reflexive
to live on the defensive
exercising freedoms
that sometimes fasten
someone else’s shackles.
Oh, come and bless
white knuckles clenched
‘round everything
first plucked
then hid
and horded
for fear of lack…
Rouse me to see
your morning provision
is enough.
Oh yes please bless
whilst I forget
and fret my needs
failing to perceive
with human eyes
the One
who, in turn,
sees
me.
He who knows
every burden buried
under earthly layer
of doubtful prayer.
He who hears
each personal petition
for redemption
of every crooked thing.
He who loves
me as I am.
In this heavenly enclave
where I am known
and heard
and loved—
only here
am I set free
from me
that I may, in turn,
unlearn
selfishness.
And bless
another.
