I feel a failure,
unsure if I have what it takes
to seek the changes
this weary season offers.
And when I see the
enormity of it all.
O God, my inadequacy hangs heavy,
and the well feels dry.
and I have nothing with which to draw refreshment.
I’m tired worrying about everything,
feeling the pressure of what that brings,
trying to engage with the future,
unable to capture its illusive shape,
and do something about it
while negotiating the present
with its shifting boundaries of safety and danger.
I want to retreat,
turn my back
on all that is draining my energy,
reserves that are not replenished,
and find my safe place,
in the familiar,
and be left there
to grow without the choking weeds.
O God, may your Spirit
make a bonfire of such weariness,
and from the ashes,
your healing balm restore my soul
that I might grow again.