I Am Not Strong

I Am Not Strong

(“To end my letter I tell you, be strong in the Lord and in his great power.” Ephesians 6:10)

I wanted to meet you well before the end of the road.
The stones are sharp, the sun watches my every move,
the winds have vanished and everywhere I look
I see the absence.

I am not strong. This journey has taken its toll and
I’ve run out of change for the next payment to cross a bridge.
I don’t mind saying, I’ve heard trolls are ready to catch the last breath
of travelers who went too far in their search for faith.

I’ve heard the trip is worth it, the travel is the holiday.
But I’ve hit another dead-end, a skip in the record that keeps playing
a lyric half-spoken over and over again.

I hear nothing, feel less. The air even presses upon me like
an anvil from the sky. The friends who once listened are hiding
or have traveled the opposite trail from me. My afflictions

Are self-inflected

They would say.

If strength is shaking when I’m backed into a corner,
then I’m as strong as you’ll ever see. Even a piece of cheese
from an unexpected raven would be enough for me.

Dearest Father, let one of my own speak in a language I’ll understand;
send words that will fill the stillness before the storm;
hail a cab for me, rid me of all misapprehensions
and send me to a long afternoon of merriment simply because
I’ve made it this far.

I’m stalled, I’m stuck, my wheels spin in the rut as I
await a new name now that I exist halfway between one tribe
and the other.

I am not strong, the friends are further than sound can travel.
And when I write this honestly I fear they wonder what’s wrong with me,
dearest Father. This is it, this is me. Weak and dependent,
hoping I have not expended the final words that finally write me off.

Dearest Father, it is true, I will not refuse your power. Yet you must know,
more than that, my strength is lagging for a lack of travelers
who simply know me. Who simply see me. Who simply love to walk
even when the strength has fled from our words.