Apr 2014
I am broken.
Broken, to the depths of what has held me, to the inner function of my blood to run its course through my veins.
It's continual, every turn to a face of disappointment, every step toward hands reaching to me, an empty me. I'm lost, my nurturing motherly nature wanting nothing more than to sweep three tender hearts away into a life of security and home full of love where Gods grace lies on the floors where Mommy and Daddy's tears have wept on knees in prayer in the early mornings. Where six little feet touch that earth upon rising and can feel Peace...Peace...Gods loving arms wrapped around our hearts and guiding us.
I'm one woman, full of nothing.
Scraping by on scattered prayers and meaningless goals.
How can I guide these delicate hearts, when upon opening mine at sunrise they flood hurt and continual tears? Is my faith so weak I haven't the strength to conjure up one ounce of prayer.
Joy, when I see my three beauties laughing, carefree and innocent, I feel joy.
What I'd give to snuggle up to them each morning and see their eyes light up with happiness, simply because I didn't have to work that day.
If I could rewrite this story of what has become the outcome of our lives.. I'd write it with caution, with sensitivity to Gods word, with a heavy momma heart and hands that reach to God with a face buried in prayer upon the opening of one eye at mornings dusk.
The crevasses, dark unending torturous valleys of discontentment and reflections of failure convince me again.. I'm unfit.
Yet the hearts I feel beating when I squeeze my beauties close on my chest and breathe in their full of life smiles...tells me I'm made for the role. Only a mama can hurt at the thought of her child hurting and worry about the most minute details of their lives.
So I'll try, I'll try again today, to drown out the circumstances I've fallen into, push past the doubts that fear me, walk through the river of emotions that drop me to my knees, when I begin to cry, the tears that seem to have no end.
Despite this, I have life and am blessed.
Broken, to the depths of what has held me, to the inner function of my blood to run its course through my veins.
It's continual, every turn to a face of disappointment, every step toward hands reaching to me, an empty me. I'm lost, my nurturing motherly nature wanting nothing more than to sweep three tender hearts away into a life of security and home full of love where Gods grace lies on the floors where Mommy and Daddy's tears have wept on knees in prayer in the early mornings. Where six little feet touch that earth upon rising and can feel Peace...Peace...Gods loving arms wrapped around our hearts and guiding us.
I'm one woman, full of nothing.
Scraping by on scattered prayers and meaningless goals.
How can I guide these delicate hearts, when upon opening mine at sunrise they flood hurt and continual tears? Is my faith so weak I haven't the strength to conjure up one ounce of prayer.
Joy, when I see my three beauties laughing, carefree and innocent, I feel joy.
What I'd give to snuggle up to them each morning and see their eyes light up with happiness, simply because I didn't have to work that day.
If I could rewrite this story of what has become the outcome of our lives.. I'd write it with caution, with sensitivity to Gods word, with a heavy momma heart and hands that reach to God with a face buried in prayer upon the opening of one eye at mornings dusk.
The crevasses, dark unending torturous valleys of discontentment and reflections of failure convince me again.. I'm unfit.
Yet the hearts I feel beating when I squeeze my beauties close on my chest and breathe in their full of life smiles...tells me I'm made for the role. Only a mama can hurt at the thought of her child hurting and worry about the most minute details of their lives.
So I'll try, I'll try again today, to drown out the circumstances I've fallen into, push past the doubts that fear me, walk through the river of emotions that drop me to my knees, when I begin to cry, the tears that seem to have no end.
Despite this, I have life and am blessed.
9/5/12
Copyright © Natasha Ivory Evans 2012
Copyright © Natasha Ivory Evans 2012
