אבנימ

When by myself at times I’m caught alone
When my thick neck, refusing to bend, breaks
Communion with my faithful friend and takes
My heart to stupid waste. I’m hard as stone.
But all I’m left with there are thoughts my own
Which flit and fly and force me to forsake
And stop his streams into my stagnant lake;
Th’ abundant life is left like dead men’s bones.
I’m battered by His love and make Donne’s plea —
For whom the Lord loves true the same he chides
My wretched state made clear I bend my knee
And sheepish at His door I try to hide.
“Come,” he invites, “let’s have a cup of tea.”
His meekness brings me broken back inside.