a poem from September 12, 2021

Complacency twirls me around like so until I end up on the ground with my head held low.
I press my hands to the ground to assist but compromise dances on my back and I can't resist.
My smile begins to fade away once I'm alone with the growths of guilt and shame.

How did I get here?

No, but really.  How did I get here?

The waters used to be waterfalls, vibrant without fear, I used to see myself rightly when I looked in the mirror.

I used to cry when He was near.

Now it's as if the waters have dried up.

I feel stagnant, neither going back nor forward.  I'm just staying the same.  
My eyes look up only to see the banner over me labeled "failure" as if it's my name.

When I've given up, I close my eyes and breathe.  I remember The Source.  The One my soul used to long for.  The One my heart used to ache for.  The One who would wash me in His words like rain.

And that's when I fall to my knees.  That's when I recognize that I'm weak.  That's when my chest hurts and my face becomes wet with my tears.  That's when I become broken.

This is when repentance comes.

I admit my faults, my sin, my complacency, 
I admit that I no longer can truly see.

Oh, then something sweet comes.  Something I've been running from but also aching for.  It's what I don't deserve.  It's what cleanses and makes me whole again.

This, this is when the rain comes.

Isabella Shoemake