Poem by Hermana Strode from the District

It's here it seems I cannot sleep,

nor find rest of any kind.

For illness has my body hostage,

Discouragement plagues my mind.

My skin is thin, my bones are brittle, 

And it's not the first time I feel small. 

It enters my mind that I'm not sure

Whether I'll weather this storm at all.

A familiar voice creeps into my skull;

"It's possible this path is all wrong,

The road ahead is crooked and steep

and you're already struggling along."

I lift up my head  and drop it back down, 

I let out an audible sigh.

I make no real effort to hold it all in.

and softly begin to cry.

A curious head leans over my bed, 

followed by two big blue eyes,

"Don't let the voice in," said curious head

"Though he constantly pesters and pries.

Spoiler Alert: You win this fight!

There's no need to despair.

But if ever you need a tissue or crutch, 

Sister I am here. 

Those words reverberate within my soul,

I'm sure I've heard them before.

At my darkest times, my soul was racked,

My hope was a heap on the floor. 

Me and My Savior have something in common, 

For at this point we looked up,

And asked our Father if we might shrink

And not drink this bitter cup.

But drank he his, then drank he mine

And donned a thorny crown.

And as his sweet soul ascended, 

My own chains fell to the ground.

Because of My Savior, My Jesus, My King

I'm made worthy to speak His name!

In fields and in jungles of leaves and concrete

to ring out this hopeful refrain.

And now I know I'll never forget

My friend who reigns on high.

Though it seems at times I'm all alone

I know my Savior is nigh. 

And though I stand in the eye of the storm,

If I am humble I can hear

The broken hearted words he speaks, 

"My sister, I am here."

Now I can see you with His eyes, 

I'll love you with His own heart, 

He'll serve you with my willing hands

I hold back not one part. 

You are my administering angels

I'll be the same for you.

I'd hold you in my imperfect arms

And whisper these simple truths:

"You are made of star stuff

To celestial worlds you'll return.

You're rather short sighted now, 

but step by step, you'll learn.

He cares not what it is you offer, 

Only that you give it all.

You say that you're already down, 

But I know he would not let you fall

So cast aside your insecurities, 

From dust they come and go.

Shortcomings, fears, sins, infirmities,

And believe the things you know. 

So rise up, brave young Israel, 

Proclaim it loud and clear; 

Raise your arms to heaven skyward, 

And cry, "My Savior, I am here!"