Not that soldier.

the strife with burdens {Raw and Unfiltered}

I've not been able to write for a while. My mind feels barricaded as I'm continuously pushed to the corner by things I thought I could overcome. I catch the inspiration but before I can fully harness it, my back hits the hard wall and then the inspiration is then lost, simply dispelled in an atmosphere that threatens to close off my breathe.

I thought my account balance was the problem, to those of us familiar with the "broke blues" but then it was deeper than that, it was deeper than the surface of what I deemed weakened me. It seems like I've lost that life, that spark that I once harbored in the bossom of my big bright eyes. The people around me noticed, they kept on asking me questions that I didn't have the answers to. And oh my back bled as I was backed up further and further into that brick wall. For a while it felt nice there, being one with indifference, feeling everything so much you've lost the sense to feel but only watch.

Even as I write this piece, this hot afternoon. I still can't identify how I fell, it was a brief stumbling, one that I surprisingly landed safely into the hands of my friend and the assurance of God. My spirit feels weak and this is the best time to write for me, no restraint just the words of a fatigued soldier typing her soul down on her big Android. I saw this post on social media where a guy complained about the circumstances in his life, he wasn't God's strongest soldier, and neither am I.

I feel like I am as feeble as I look, mentally, emotionally and spiritually, easily carried away by the turbulence that aims to sift me. I dunno if I'm just suffering from the adolescent dilemma of low self esteem, I dunno if this is just the strain of maturing but everything in me is crying out to sleep, this burden.....oh the burden. Am I just falling short because I am still trying to shoulder this burden on my own, because there's a part of me that is yet to surrender to Him? I dunno what I need at this point, but I'm tired of this reoccurring cycle of darkness, like I'm standing beneath a thick fog, a fog I walk through so blindly.

I wish I was an artist, so I could bleed out my messy feelings and thoughts on a blank canvas in the most, compelling, abstract and profound expression. This is all more than a feeling, there is a solemn pang in my spirit an aggression that unfolds itself as I speak in the language of the spirit. A deep painful groan, yearning for that impact, yearning for that promise. An impact I can't identify, a Promise I don't remember being told. What is this phenomenon? I can't explain nor comprehend it.

I may not be God's strongest soldier, but I am the soldier who's Commander is the the strongest, who's Commander is the ultimate.
I may not be God's strongest soldier, but I am a word spoken by God into existence. Can God speak a word without a meaning?
I may not be God's strongest soldier, but I am his battle axe, I surrender and then he wields me against the wiles that threatens to intimidate me.
I may not be God's strongest soldier, but I am a ticking time bomb enduring a momentary lapse, a ticking time bomb ready to detonate against the camps of the wicked.
I may not be God's strongest soldier, but He is my Abba and I am His baby.
I may not be God's strongest soldier, but He told me that although weeping may endure for a night, but lo Joy cometh in the morning.
This soldier isn't over, this is just a night, this is just for now!