By Karen Swank
who am i
that You should choose
this hour and this place
the least trustworthy of all, it seems
smallest in might
quickest to nurse imagined wounds
most prone to dwell in darkness
refusing the balm You offer in abundance
who am i
all around me i see others who seem
stronger, steadier, more reasonable by far
what is my offering, after all?
my brokenness
earned all too often by others’ tears
bought by battered grace
empathy purchased by falling down
my weary willingness
to cry, to ache, to walk, to fall on my face
to whisper names to You there in the secret place
how can this be enough?
too small
is what i feel
too small
is what i am
If you liked this article, check out: Awake at 3am: Musings in the morning
Karen is from Aledo, IL. She went to Monmouth College and studied Latin and English. She is a biological mom of two children and surrogate mom/friend/advocate for a whole host of children. She would like to meet every wounded soul that I’ve she’s ever known… as a child, before the “damage was done” so she could tell them how much they are loved.