Lord,
I’m Tired
My
mind and body need rest, yet every time that I turn around I feel like I’m
going through some mess.
Lord,
I’m Tired
I
feel the demon of depression coming on, an unwelcome visitor that wants to take
permanent residence in my home.
Lord,
I’m Tired
The
bills are due and seem to be mounting higher each day, and I am doing my best
to make it just from each payday.
Lord,
I’m Tired
Our
young black men are steadily being murdered at the hands of their own at
alarming rates, while many single black sistahs are desperate for dates.
My
family and friends say that I’m a strong
black woman and will be all right, a label that makes me nauseous at each
recite.
I
desire to come to You in prayer and to get out of this bed, but need the strength
to simply fall on my knees to get my soul fed.
I
want to read Your word daily to hear You speak to me, but sometimes I’m too
weak for this to even be.
I
want to praise you as I have in the past, but the energy just to clap my hands
doesn’t even seem to last.
Help
me to have faith of a mustard seed, so that I can make it through because right
now I really need You.
Carla J. Curtis, © January 2004
No comments:
Post a Comment