Poetry

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Every once in a while
when I have a heavy morning
for no good reason other
it’s just hard to get up
and I am slow to move
I temporarily step down
from my powerful daughter status
and go back to being a little child
on my Papa’s lap
I put my head against His heart
and say: tell me a story Pops
I just sit and listen
until I am strong again
and sometimes I just rest quietly
in His biggness and kindness
until I am ready to go out there
in a world that believes in
survival of the fittest and there’s
only a handful of kind folks
the rest are a sea of sharks
amidst barking dogs
and steam rollers
with clever, sarcastic remarks
who laugh without joy
He gives me the breastplate
to cover my sensitive heart
and the helmet to still
my active mind
and those shoes so I don’t step
on pine needles again in the porch
and the shield to block unbelief
and the sword to advance
and move forward
because sometimes I don’t
wake up a winner
I become one after some
time with my Dad

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