Life is not easy, as crosses are not light
backbreaking, mandating, troublesome with smite.
these torrents of tears, these shaking of shoulders,
each intensified by fears, that grow as I grow older.
But relinquished are they, when I fasten my eyes,
to the King of the World, who knew what it was like,
to be all alone, to feel alienation,
who ate with those who believed
they deserved damnation.
He extended His arms, when He took His last breath,
And into those arms I fall, when I cannot stand.
Climbing this mountain with doubt and my song,
tripping on temptation, and tumbling down when I’m wrong
I will bounce back again, and lift my eyes to Him
above the waving of fists
and the pointed blades of questions,
I will discard these heavy blankets
that have muffled my voice.
St. Therese once said of her little way
that when I set foot on these stairs
it is then the Lord will carry me.
You can try to pummel my spirits
with your deterrent disposition.
Even if you claim it is fueled
by prayerful intuition.
I will not waver,
And yet I will still listen.
For I know who I am,
and I know to Whom I belong:
My Lord and
No matter how many times
you tell me I’m wrong.