Waterfall

I don't know much about poetry; none of the rules about how it's supposed to be structured or anything like that. Rhythm, rhyme, meter - hmm, not so sure about those things either.  This just came. There wasn't much fiddling around to choose words, and I don't think that the verses (stanzas?) are even the same length, but it sort of says what I want it to say. 

I think God says something too.

I am weary and burdened 

 and I want that rest you speak of.

My burdens are trivial:

daily stuff, detail stuff,

motherhood and marriage,

women and worry.

Who I am and what I'm for;

when to pursue the dream 

and when to stop trying.

Today, too difficult.

I am tired.

I know that burdens come much heavier than mine:

dirt and drought and death,

fear and fighting,

bombs and bloodshed.

Add guilt to my burden

because life is hard right here

And yet I have nothing to complain about.

I am blessed but broken.

I'm feeling small.

Inadequate and fearful.

Still I come.

I come because I know your grace;

You know my dissatisfaction

and you love me anyway.

I come because I'm thirsty 

and the water that you give brings life;

heals and restores

gives energy and hope.

Water to drink and bathe and swim in.

I can stand beneath the waterfall of peace

naked but somehow unashamed.

Washed and nourished.

You see me.

I can't hide from you,

and so I approach;

just as I am; just me.

You are the God who sees.

The darkness and fear.
Every doubt and uncertainty.

My weariness and weakness,

ingratitude and pride 

and instead of anger 

you pour out never ending love.