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I play happily in my playpen stacking blocks Smashing my Tonka trucks together The duck pond burns to a crisp God comes through and smacks my blocks over Put away those childish things.

I resist the call to grow The warmth my childhood is soothing and familiar But I’m lying to myself I tear my comfort zone off of my chapped skin. But it burns so much.

The cries of my pain pierce my own ears, cutting into nothingness Heart burning for an era long since passed. My duckie flies to greener pastures Ulcers of enmity bubble in my spirit-and hypocrisy chafes. But how do you tell on God?

I make progress….picking up the shards, shredding my fingertips My progress is halted as I get kicked in the hands I cant hold on! My own shattered spirit cuts me further. I hold on to my wounds, and yet, spiritual hemorrhage is too great But it was so much better before.

Aching on the floor, still an unwilling captive to my evolution Too sick to go back, too dirty to move forward Suspended in the perpetuation of spiritual stagnancy Perpendicular to myself, I can’t get out of my way Lord, deliver me.

I sob uncontrollably in my sonship Agonizing over my spiritual and emotional inadequacy There is no returning to the duck pond. God comes through and props me up. Release, and lean on Me.