Invisible Crisis
Rolling into worship
Smelling of sulfur and brimstone,
Rebaptized twice by scalding coffee,
Two outfits later
With a third absolutely necessary but ignored,
She makes herself really small
Invisibly trying to wakefully worship from the floor.
Nights of vomit, diarrhea, and parasites
Stole her love for people and spark for life.
Grudging obedience demands shorn sheep pressure,
So she sits within the bounds of the witness tree;
Yet somehow it’s just out of reach.
All hope gone for a good witness,
She just tries to avoid offense.
She no longer wants to change the world or turn it upside down.
She just wants to get out of bed, out the door, outfit and coffee intact.
If only lightning would strike from the witness tree
To set her life and world on fire again…
Inspired by lyrics of the songs Broken Arrow, If We Are the Body, Does Anybody Hear Her?
