Reflections of the Daunted

Hey, there. Just some words that tumbled out of me. My apologies, but no real inspiration for sketching today to accompany it. Besides which, my joints are not feeling particularly cooperative to the task.

In fact, not much of me is feeling cooperative, to be frank.

The sun is out…even spent some time in it. Yet, I just could not feel it in these old bones.

Not today.

Oh, how I despise always coming back to this place in my psyche- sounding so mopey and morose.

Further than that, I despise always overexplaining and overapologizing for this side of me.

I mean, sheesh, Marisa. Enough already…🙄

But, what can I do? All of this…junk- it’s a big chunk of who I am.

Anyway, on to the poem…

Reflections of the Daunted

You know, I was beginning to think I could call myself close to undaunted

I really thought I was beginning to know what I wanted…

But, just like standing in front of the refrigerator,

Nothing stands out anymore.

Everything pales under scrutiny,

Stomach and brain both contemplate mutiny…

I finally grab a plate of leftovers,

But all the time wondering what for?

Its taste on my tongue

Will be none but brittle and dry…

And it deflates me more than a little to discover

That beyond depression seems to lie

Rampant disatistfaction.

Or perhaps the lie is in the idea

That the gray doesn’t have a hold on me yet,

That I am not still entangled in that net.

Honesty is my mainstay,

But that doesn’t always mean it inspires joy.

Hurt remains hurt and pain won’t quit

Causing the heart to splinter and fray.

And yet You, Lord, remain the repairer of my soul…

Even when my cares seem to go wildly out of control.

Be near to me, my God,

Help me sift through the unappetizing places

To find again where the taste of your grace is…

Thanks for reading! Blessings and prayers as ever.