Power Made Perfect Through Illness

when we're morally inept

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

While I was sick,
the floor is splattered sticky,
the toys strewn about,
fights go unchecked,
the snack drawer is raided,
and the TV reigns supreme.

We lay about lethargic
numbed by the blue light
and pacified by fairytales:
ninjas captured in a genie's sword,
20-minute yard transformations,
delectable bakes presented to judges,
elves falling in love with humans,
a pirate cat, polar bear, penguin, and rabbit
rescuing sea creatures from human indifference.

The mind as mush has no defenses
against its messages.
The bottom drops out from
previously acquired pieties
and the needy soul is laid bare.
It wants sleep. It wants warmth.
It wants another to shoulder responsibilities.
It wants to know that everything will be alright.

God, 
is your power really perfected in weakness,
in a house falling foul,
in unmonitored children
and non-stop TV?
Is your omnipotence manifested
in a body ailing and a mind undisciplined
wandering in hopeless desolations
and previously prohibited reveries?

Have you lost me 
as I lose faith in my goodness and strength?
Will you still hold me 
if I cannot cling to you?
Will you keep me if
I'm suddenly rendered unable to morally move?
Was I ever moving?
I suppose not. 
But I thought I was.
And through this stripping of illusions
the truth is laid bare.
You have bound my wandering heart to you
keeping me righteous
as I lose faith in me
in order to recall faith in you.