Fragile is my heart that longs for touch, that longs for something it can see. 

Fragile are my thoughts as they fail to remember the good I’ve seen.

Fragile is my body that is too week to lift the sorrow inside of me.

The weight is too great, the pain is too deep.

I lay in my bed, but I cannot sleep.

I speak of vulnerability, with glass walls built all around me. 

I Feel alone, but I cannot be.

My friends are here, but I’m distancing.

My God is here, but I’m not listening. 

*one day into social distancing* 

I’d been so busy I couldn’t think.

The pressures off, now my mind can think. 

Mixed feelings, but I’m thankful that I now can think.

There’s things important I’ve distanced myself from,

Things in my room I can’t escape,

Things in my mind I can’t erase. 

It’s more than sin, it’s more than rhythms.

It’s more then the closets and skeletons in them. 

It’s more then heath and wellness and wisdom.

For the depths I reached weren’t dug in a day, 

The selfish and pure motives weren’t traded for in one exchange.

The joy did not up and fly away.

Alone. 

Here. 

Safe. 

What will I do in the weeks to come?

will I get off my phone?

Will I grow and become?

I will distance myself from my vices that drown me.

I will dream larger, though my surroundings confine me.

I will draw near to the One who found me.

I will not be alone.

I am not alone. 

We are not alone.