Can I not hurt
like anyone else,
yet still choose love
and be thankful for wounds
even as they heal?
Can I not die
a death each night,
yet still mouth prayers
said in praise
of tomorrow’s promises?
Can I not burn
in the flames of anger,
yet still sip water
at the river’s edge
and bathe my sorrow?
Can I not suffer
the trials of life,
yet still sing gladly
along with the birds
that soothe my heart?
Can I not fall
when all seems failed,
yet continue to crawl
until able to walk
before leaping again?
Can I not scream
from tortured lungs,
yet hold my peace
in a state of silence
to honor the truth?
Can I not curse
what can’t be changed,
yet hold the reins
steady in my hands
of what can be controlled?
Can I not bleed
from that same thorn,
yet still smell roses
in a garden of health
where my faith is restored?