O Lord, be merciful when I reduce
Pray’rs to compulsions and repeat the lines
Like incantations till my mind lets loose.
I love you, but obsession undermines
Abiding and I get stuck in the steps,
Working to breathe instead of breathing free,
Approaching rev’rence, bypassed to precepts.
I struggle not to strive. But you know me.
You formed me in the womb and there could see
Each struggle I would face. I’m understood.
When I can’t do, you give me grace to be.
When all feels wrong, you still can make it good.
Remind me of this truth when scruple binds:
The Maker’s still at work in anxious minds.

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