Beaten.

I’m down on the ground

And you’re still kicking.

I would try to cry out,

Stand up…

But it’s been made clear

That whatever your foot wants

Comes before

Anything my soul needs.

No fight left

I set about

Wrestling with an Angel

Figured, if Jacob could,

Then why not me.

Bone after bone

I let him crush,

Till I could not

Bear to stand.

Lying broken

On the cold hard ground,

I hope for the blessing

But dare not believe

That it is any longer

A guarantee.