9-21-23

I have stumbled over this landscape for a long time.

Just when I think I have found my stride, I fall again.

Every new bruise is a blessing, every wound a call to rise.

How is it that I now seem to have lost my way?

My mind is my least reliable tool, my vision unfocused.

I pray that my heart not be hardened,

Though I don’t know to who I am praying.

I pray that my soul will keep believing in the journey,

Abide my failing mind and stumbling body until we are home.

Every time I get scared, my life changes.

When I admit I am frightened, it gets better.

When I pretend I am not, it gets worse.