Knocked down… down… down… down. Done?
Pressed with weight of uncontrollable issues.
Unsure which listed task “to do.”
Knocked over by the growing number.
28 weeks knocked up, sweet expectation.
But great pressure haunts my bliss.
Dollar signs flutter like green butterflies – –
flitting from negative nets capturing, crushing.
Each day a new hand out
to collect what next is due.
Not yet knocked out, but nearly.
Tired of worrying, but trusting God.
Faith is a mysteriously precious possession
clung to tightly in this struggle.
Self made chaos? Quite possibly truth.
But the strain of “making it”
is no less taking its hold.
Knock off the doubt – – He’s able
(I must remind myself each day).
And I will soon stand tall.
Shared with Six Words Fridays.