When Day is Done

By Kathryn Taylor

When day is done and I reflect

On the RADness of the day,

I often wonder how it is

I survived the mad melee-

I'm overwhelmed and ragged,

Thinking I can't go on,

Crying out to God,

Cursing the coming dawn-

If you could see my heart,

Its ravaged, shredded state,

You'd rush me into surgery,

Before it was too late-

Yet each and every morning,

I rise as though from death,

A daily little miracle

Revived by God's own breath-

So, I enter each new day

With the hope of God alone,

Praying He'll see me through,

And water the seeds I've sewn-

May they one day sprout and grow

Into beautiful blooms of joy,

As I desperately try to mother

This hurt angry girl and boy-

Back

All rights reserved, © Kathryn Taylor

Copying without permission for non-personal use is forbidden.