Medicated Soul Cas Reeves 2019 Who am I here? To write these words And hold my breath at shadows? Is there still poetry In this medicated soul? Does God still love me Though I feel nothing? Nothing when I pray? No word jumps from the page. The scripture sits blank, Like cold porridge in my head. Does God still love me? Though I do not burn? Or even yearn? Does He understand, That medication dulls The sword that was my spirit Until the edge of my wits Is more ‘blunt butter knife.’ Then a scalpel To divide the soul and spirit? I offer God anew my words, My thoughts, dreams and desires. I put God first in all My longings and my hopes. I pray God’s grace Is greater than my illness.
“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9
Cheryl Reeves Writing - from my shelves of journals 