Laurel Turner #fibropoet with pencils for legs

 Arms raised,/ I reach out,/ take one step into the dark/ that spins my head/ and turns my ankle;/ The wall leans/ into my heavy head fall/ but hits your back.// The skin on your hands/ warms mine/ as you set me aright.// We take the next step.// Even there Your hand shall lead me,/ And Your right hand shall hold me.     David's 139th poem L T. c  1/23/2025

 Your unrelenting mercy/ reforms my delights, quells my fight/ to drink what leaves me dry;/ I gorge myself and hunger/ for the bread of life/ whose crumbs always satisfy.// Have I become too tired for life,/ too tired to rest/ to taste,/ instead of being driven,/ too tired to say no? Oh, the hours I stole/ from my life that// You've given/ and given/ and given.// You are true, relentless,/ generous--brave/ and I accept your invitation.// See, I stand knocking at the door. If anyone listens to my voice and opens the door, I will go into his house and dine with him and he with me.  John's Revelation   Laurel Turner c. 1/20/2025