Sometimes the walls feel like hands

moving in, taking over my space, moving me

away from the center with a pushing to the outside

where instead of looking out from where I am

I’m looking in to where I was.

It’s an odd place, not on one side or the other, until

I quiet myself, leaning on the promises of God,

the chance for another day, relying on scriptural strength

to place me back by faith in the middle, reclaiming my position,

once again looking out from within

and covered by a promise.


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