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 ♥