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A Bedridden Weekend

He’s waited on me hand and foot what more could I ask of Him?

but that look. The look in His eyes

when he sees me cringe.

I’m strong. I fear no pain, but I believe He hates me

in agony,     and this has been nothing less.

I’ve lost all control of when and where i go

and worst, what I am able to do for myself.

The messes we’ve made        He cleans them up.

the messes I’ve made           He clears those too.

When I can barely move—

stand,     take one step—he bares the weight of us both.

He becomes my crouch.            I feel as though I am forever indebted to Him

for His gentleness alone.  In sickness. In health  shall He be a man of His words. . . 

I doubt it not.

Yesterday He bathe me: in His love,

bubbles, coconut oils, salts and menthol.

The pain barely subsided. Yet, I felt anew. A plethora of feelings

lead to a single tear I did not think he caught.

My pride was shook. He has all control

over my life at present, but I fear not.

‘Fore, after His hands had cleansed my flesh

I knew I would not—

could not succumb to this pain.

 


 

I love you King ♥

♥ Egypt

 

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