laden eyes

this is just a season, i know
as i open my eyes reluctantly

i ache to be full of Christ
but feel inflated by fear
and deflated by demons i have named

the long months of dread and hope,
held in equally disturbing measures,
seem to have caught up with me

the exhaustion from racing time
bellows through my body
and returns to sit smugly in my hips

voices from graves
not unlike my own one day
beg me to seize all of my seasons,
even this one

and i could,
if i could only find a room
to sleep

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