Empty Fists

A Poem on Worry, Control, and a Loving Father

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

— Matthew 11:28

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“Come to me,”
my Father bids,
“and lay down all your cares”
but I sit, rocking, rocking as I
clutch each want and fear.

“But, Father,”
I say timidly,
“You give and take away.
And when You give, I know it’s good,
but some things, they must stay.”

Our Father smiles
tenderly
and cups my hand in His.
Then slowly He reveals to me
I clutch an empty fist.

“Dear child,”
He then says to me,
“instead of holding close
to things you can’t control, hold on
to Me and don’t let go.

“For earthly
treasures, cares, and plans
will one day pass away,
but I, who satisfies your soul,
am yours, and here to stay.”

I slowly
still and lift my gaze,
then lay down every care.
With both hands free, I cling to Him
and find true solace there.

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Grateful for you.

Grace and peace,

Ali

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Cover image: Unknown artist, found via Pinterest