Pam Hawkins Design

there are days when
my armour seems thin
I am unprotected
exposed and raw

I have held it in
and pushed it down
I can do it I say
yet I am not believing

the tiny thing sets it off
insignificant yet crushing
a file, a phone call, a word
it isn't much

then the train wreck seems to happen
shoving, pushing,
scraping and ripping up your insides
there is no mercy

the outside shell breaks
in a million pieces
you cant pick them up
composure is not an option

the phone rings and I am
in the middle of a breakdown
then there is a voice
a voice to rescue me

the voice knows
my weaknesses
my thresh hold
my tears

The voice contains comfort
an appeal to my heart
Sending silken band aids
to soak up the tears

The voice says go sit in the sun
pull a few weeds
look at the roses
smell the sweet peas

Then a sip of cold water
fresh from the hose
my spirit is refreshed
I am now composed

the voice sends a note
to tell me to SMILE
accompanied by a picture
I am safe here and now

my insides still whimper
hanging onto the voice
but my heart feels his comfort
he loves me by choice