Comfort Me

Someone comfort me.
I’ve been in my room
for three days. No shower,
body odor’s getting ripe,
and I stare that this 9mm
as if it was the answer.
Meanwhile, the peanut gallery’s opinions
play in my head like a broken record,
as my low self-esteem
turns them into gospel.
Chills of guilt rushes my body as
responsibilities and commitments
escalate into
failures and disappointments.
And I’m just a shell of flesh
watching everything pile
as I think of excuses and
look for comfort
from within.

I know the Bible says:
“So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed,
for I am your God. I will strengthen
you and help you; I will uphold
you with my righteous right hand.”
But it’s asking me to be patient,
I’m looking for a magic bullet,
quick fit or magic spell.
Or maybe something soothing
that’ll quiet the broken record.

Maybe something like
when I was little
and I was stressed
Momma would just sing:
“Baby mine, don’t you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine…”
Instantly, the stress was gone,
no more voices or worries.
Then I could go play with no worries,
or at least get some sleep.

Maybe that the strategy.
It’s temporary, but maybe
the illusion of peace
will allow me
to sleep or focus
on what God was saying
or at least
stop the record.

contains samples from Isaiah 41:10 (NIV)
and the lullaby “Baby Mine” credited by Zoe Ferguson

*edited March 3, 2010

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