Medically malnourished, a bed sheet for a gown.
A form unrecognizable when you peer in the mirror.
Strange and disgusted.
A shell of what was.
Part synthetic with a drain exiting your abdomen.
A mother inquires “Will she be ok?”
The specialist replies, “We almost lost her several times.”
No strength in who I was.
Skin hanging off.
No strength in whatever I have become.
Eating is a fight.
Ravaged by sepsis, again.
“You inspire me.”
When all you have is faith.
You see so clearly the hand of God.
When Satan runs through your veins.
Morphine injections that feel like hate.
Liberation from self.
Fear of the flesh.
Total trust in the Lord.
When God is bigger than science and reason.
When God is quiet.
And mountains move.
Not a sound, new veins grow.
God calls one verse to memory.
Here in this place.
“Oh Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder consider all the worlds thy hands have made. I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder. Thy power throughout the universe displayed. Then sings my soul, my savior God to thee, How great thou art, how great thou art.”
Dear Jesus, I will sing your praise. Amen.