Running, Lagging
Legs, lift these sluggish feet.
Bending, rising, take the weight
Of bodies dragging, sinking, lagging;
Oppose the pull of death and wind.
Swollen, swelling wounds, be silent;
Tendons, hold firm – do not snap;
Blood, push out the stagnant fluid
Clogging, blocking every flow.
Lungs, give force to move this body;
Charge, instruct; give breath, give wind.
Push this sagging bag of life’s weight;
Let it move through air and sing.
My soul, be still; let running be
The rhythm of your silent sleep.
O God, lift up this head and let it
Hope in all Your rushing wind.
The Consolations of Writing 