When I’m tired… there’s nothing to say. Just numbing pain that won’t go away. When I’m tired… I watch my words fall off the page. I can’t cry under the spotlight of the stage. When I’m tired… I’m in between right and wrong. My wants and needs, Lord, help me, please. I’m not strong but play the game of tag-along. When I’m tired… I forget me. I forget You. I forget what is the Truth. What to do— with this hurt, buried in the deepness of my weary soul. When I’m tired… I watch, one by one a trickle of letters pour with my sighs. I sit and stay alone in my whys. When I’m tired… I’m not quite the writer I want to be. Just a drifter who rides the wave of these meaningless words. Lost in the undercurrent. Lord, I know you see. When I’m tired… I hold a pen anyway. Never knowing when a word will form or if a story is coming. But I am here. When I’m tired… I’m still the writer with words of love. When I’m tired… You are still the God above my sorrows. When I’m tired… You still give me the promise of tomorrow. When I’m tired… You are the reason to breathe and live. When I’m tired… I remember You wrote the story of resurrection with your pen of redemption.
Good reminders... :) Nice job Merissa!
Great poem! There's something about authenticity in poetry and prayer with the Lord. Reminds me of David crying out to God with all his heart.