empty

And the weight becomes unbearable.

The pressure?  Too much.

I crack, ever so slightly.  Tiny bit by tiny bit.

I can feel it on the inside. 

But I disregard the warnings.

Keep the game face on.

Head down, plowing through…

as though there is nothing to be done.

The tension increases.  Systems fail.

And I am too weary to pretend, to fight.

So my pride seeps out the cracks.

You can hear the weariness in my voice--
it breaks as I try to speak through the tears.

My pride dissipates.

My sorrow fades away.

My anger wanes.

My hurt feelings sharpen, then soften, then evaporate.

I can feel the raw edges,
see my imperfections.

The flaws would overwhelm me if I’d let them…and I used to.

Grace for the graceless.

He calls me beloved,
whispers through my whimpers.

He is faithful
to this faithless fool.

The truth remains that he makes all things new.

And that is enough.

Holly Willman

3/26/13