I understand giving God His due
and putting Him first, in all that you do.
And Mama can not be forgotten,
I would never dream of demanding for me,
your precious time with her.
Brothers and cousins, have always been there.
My entrance into your picture has only seconds,
in the gran scheme, if measured.
Understandably, I patiently wait, to see if you dare.
And conclude, I am last in your pile full of cares.
You worry and fret and live in the past.
Claiming not to have felt God in a while.
Not once giving value to the blessings before you.
While you move me further down
on your list of insignificance.
The familiarity of dread seeping into my soul
is my trumpet and wake up call.
Take a deep breath.
You over played your hand.
God got this.
