tired sabbatical

To go or to stay, I'm asking to hear

to keep or release, these things familiar.

Living in the land of anxiety, questions,

I cannot understand; answers

I care not to find.

I am tired.

Security, I have; what has always been.

But will this be a reason to hold on?

I'm unable to hear, not willing to be still

You might answer... and I am afraid.

I am tired.

And what might they say if I

choose another way? "Look what she's

given up - stupid," could they say?

Truth, I know. No matter their words.

But real are the voices all the same.

Of these thoughts, I am tired.

Rush, rush. Tomorrow, back to the

rushing around we now know.

Will I stand sure or will I collapse,

pronouncing us...

tired.

{Written September 25, 2011 in Nashville}