all of my artistic energies have been focused on my NaNoWriMo novel, and all of my strength has been poured into the care of my precious warrior-daughter of now eight weeks.
and then the doctors said i needed more surgery. my gallbladder quit working, as though it wast just as tired as i was. and i went under the knife again two days ago. my body is rung out like a rag in the bottom of the kitchen sink, tossed and crumpled and completely without strength.
i am weary. i am without poetry. i am simply exhausted.
i am driftwood.
lead me to the Rock that is higher than i.
and i am tempest tossed and oh, so forelorn.
i am a ship and the waves are swelling.
but there is One who calms the waters with a word.
peace. be still.
for I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel.
and He has gone before me, unsurprised by a single thing that has occurred over the past month. and all i can do is whisper "thank you" to the stars that illuminate my night. because the Cross is what i cling to without ceasing these days, or i would be smashed to pieces against the shoals, carved with lies.
insufficient becomes :: enough
broken becomes :: whole
empty becomes :: filled
and i am driftwood carved to elegance, leaning against the Rock that is higher than i.