Waking up, my foot brace is off.

My brave face is shattered, all strong thoughts were tattered.

You’re in heaven, greeting GOD at his finest.

I’m here whining and crying like that’ll do either of us any good.

It alarms me how much my body misses the sun

I ache, I’m agitated and forlorn.

I want to feel warm, not just in body but in mind.

I am so tender, so touchy these mornings.

I want to reach out but it comes out in a banter. 

How could I help?

How could I feel past this awful termoil?

Is there a contentment in aiming for a medium?

Is there a setting stone I could stake my claim and call home?

I don’t know.

I find myself to be wise in knowing that.

I’m holding onto my faith like this is my last chance.

Maybe it is. 


  1. Some days,
    this world us so scary
    that everything feels like a last chance –

    but I can think of far worse last chances than you, my friend.

    You can be my last chance anytime.

    Liked by 2 people

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