My Name is Not Mary

I must admit, some days are better than others; today is his birthday, but I won’t see him.

He was just here for a week of joy then off he walked into a sunset of doom… again.

Each time he come’s he stays longer, yet each time he goes, he’s gone longer.

My heart aches, I remember this day so long ago, fearing for his life that day, too, and many more.

His whole life has been hard, a one way up hill, through snow, barefoot, in an old Nor’Easter.

Michael has been guarding him for years now, a warrior friend of mine keeping him alive.

But why?

For another day of living hell?

Should I give up and let it become an eternity of hell, for both of us?

It’s one thing to know, I might not make it, but how can I reconcile giving up on him?

How can I walk away from a tiny limping bird, with broken wings?

Do you end its misery; its sad little dragging and crawling in pain?

Or do you think, only 2 or 3 months of horrible pain and you should be all healed and… walking.

I’m at a point where… I’m so tired, I want to give up.

But then… my faith steps in, demanding to be heard and says…

He’s teaching him, He’s holding him,

His plan is always better than yours.

How many times have you fallen?

None of this makes me truly feel better.

Although, I AM thankful, my name is not Mary.


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