He says Come.

I despair.

He says, My grace is sufficient.

I fear.

He says, I am faithful.

I weep.

He says, I carry you even now.

I yearn.

He says, I fulfill.

I wrestle.

He says, I will give you rest.

I become angry, hard and smooth like a cold stone at the edge of the water, without layers.

He says, Come.

I become bitter, brittle. I rattle in the wind. My teeth clatter. My hands shake. My soul overturns.

He says, Come.

I become fractured. I howl at God. I hide in my chrysalis, an empty husk housing my stone heart.

He says, Come.

He says, Come.

He says, Come.

Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

///

Let me walk, let me run, let me dance again.

Come.