When My Pen is Too Weary

Lately, I’ve missed writing; yet, my heart makes the pen heavy.

It’s as if my soul has so many words bound within that it’s difficult to let them flow.

It’s as if a dam was built overnight, without my awareness, and now I’m stuck trying to open it.

I just want the river to flow freely. But my pen is too weary to begin again.

Pain seems to be everywhere my eyes wander; yet, the clouds cast shadows on the depths.

It’s as if I feel their agony, and then, I find myself wondering if this is pure or imagined.

It’s as if a dam has been erected in a moment of oversight, and now I’m struggling to crawl over the wall.

I just want to see the clarity through the mud. But my pen is too weary to draw the truth.

My fingers are desperate to grasp the medium, to spread freely, as the wings of flight once caged.

It’s as if I see the need, and then, my feet are too sluggish to make it across the line.

It’s as if a dam has been constructed and fortified, and now I’m left flailing in the wind, looking for the cracks.

I just want to write with fervor, escaping this reality while allowing it to reach from the ink into another land.

I need You to move, to break the barrier, to bust down this fortress. I need You to consume.

Why are you cast down, O My Soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance. O my God, my soul is cast down within me; Therefore I will remember You from the land of the Jordan, and from the heights of Hermon, from the Hill Mizar. Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls; all Your waves and billows have gone over me. The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night His song shall bewith me—

A prayer to the God of my life.

Psalm 42:5-8