Naming Struggle, Recieving Grace

During a public reading of my poetry recently, The poem Love Baptize exposed its own weakness. The original second line—“Ever stressed yet still be kind”—didn’t name the real struggle. When I reached the final two lines, the plea hit me unprepared, and I nearly broke down with uncontrollable grief.

Revising the line to “I am stressed by kindness grind” finally declared the true issue: sometimes the effort to keep doing good is not the need—Providence is. With the struggle named early, I can now read the ending not in shock but in gratefulness.

Below is the revised poem and closing comment.

“Love Baptize”

Tired body, tired mind;

I am stressed by kindness grind.

What I want is not the need,

Providence must intercede.

In your hands my deep pains balm,

Bind life’s knot to soothe and calm;

But dear Abba fear does reign—

Body’s weighted linen strain.

Down the path of agony

Looms despair’s life tapestry;

Pain removed when threads excised,

Poet’s hurt then realized.

And my skills don’t match this need,

Nimble fingers not yet freed;

Unthread my flesh—my way dies—

Dye my soul, with love baptize.

Comment: Worn body asks what strength cannot give; plea rises for hands to dye the soul love remakes.