By Mary Everitt

The nighttime jazz of rainfall beats
against the window.
Scoring another shift
into waiting rest.
Stiff-necked movements
Candle lighting
Bent knees evoke prayer

Asking God to 
Take over
Stay over
Sing over
My dreams.

Bodies shift into 
New ways of being
Weariness reaches through my skin
To pull soft fleece closer
Containing, soothing, holding—
The work of love in this world
Acknowledging my fragility
Within and without

Face tilts up to a blessing
Of love that listens and holds
Beyond the shadows growing
Whatever lies around the bend
Waiting, fighting, laboring
With the demons
Within and without

The rain drums on with
fingertips, a lullaby
Too cold to wash in,
Too soft to drown my thoughts
Punctuating murmurs
of tomorrows to come.

Mary Everitt writes from the intersections of what she feels, believes, and sees. She writes about beauty and brokenness, the insides and the outsides of the spaces she exists in. Find her on Instagram or on her website.

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