i am: a Poem

i am the quotidian sisyphus
rolling up
socks and bemoaning
the mountain
of dishes

i am a sort of atlas
crushed by
the world of burdens
not meant for me

i am a frail achilles
not in my
but my heart

i am no god
or hero
there is but
who is not myth

i am handing over futility,
and all my weakness
to the One
struck down

i am raised up
with a world
made new
by the blood of a

i am given purpose,
filled with peace,
trading frailty for strength
because of
                       I AM.


  1. captainjackmarine · · Reply

    Hey it doesn’t rhyme!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. haha, well, we can’t all be doctor seuss


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