There are days where exhaustion feels like an insufficient word.
My body tired, my mind weary, my soul tried.
At the end of the day, I’m spent.
My goal is to reach my bed.
To collapse and wish the day away.
Yet every day is a blessing. Every breath, a gift.
Lord knows how I feel, how I’m spent.
I sigh out to him, when the energy to cry out is gone.
People pass by, words merging, thoughts escaping.
I bite my tongue at the temptation to snap when sleeps interrupted.
For every word is a knife, whether it’s used to butter someone up or stab their wounds,
that’s up to you.
My eyelids start to flutter closed.
And I ask how I’ll get through tomorrow.
When my strength fails me.
But God has me, the Giver.
He’ll give me strength.
For tonight, I’ll just sleep knowing He has me.
For tomorrow, well, that’s too far ahead.
I’ll wait on Him.
He will answer me.
