I am tired – bone tired.
So tired I’d like to stay in bed for days
Easing in and out of sleep.
My eyes are heavy.
My stomach twists in knots.
My diaphragm constricts.
My breath is short and shallow,
Preventing me from going deeper
Into my sadness and shame.

What am I ashamed of?
Having so much,
Still yearning towards more,
The constant hunger for more.

I am so impatient
And I have so much.
I should be giggling with glee at my great fortune.
Instead I lament in not enoughness.

Breathe in deeper.
Deeper still.
Breathe into that place where scarcity
Cannot mask your grief.
Sit quietly as you did with Empho
And feel the gift of grief.

Grieve for the children,
Gift and Rose.
Grieve for the mothers
dying in their beds
as their children work from dawn to dusk to feed them.
Grieve for the 1 out of 3 babies
who will not see their first birthdays.
Grieve for the 80% of adults who are unemployed
and awake each day “without a purpose”.
Grieve for the children sharing sexual favors for food.
Grieve for the women who don’t dare ask their husbands to use a condom.
He will only banish her from her home
and have sex with wife number 2.
Grieve for the women who work 8 hours a day,
each day, as volunteers
caring for those who are dying.
Grieve for Cora who goes into the townships day after day
as her grief and anger challenge her sanity.
Grieve for the little girls who are raped,
the children with no parents,
the little boys who will never know a father.

And then, Celebrate the Abundance
of light in Sam’s eyes,
of steady work for Niko and I,
for a husband I trust, love and respect,
and who trusts, loves, and respects me,
for our beautiful home and strong community,
for a refrigerator that is full,
for gas heat,
electricity,
running water,
a toilet,
for too much stuff and the luxury of purging,
for health and the inconvenience of a 5 day flu,
for the burst of color in our garden,
for the opportunities to learn and grow and be me.

So much,
So much,
So many gifts given me.
God, help me to be
a good steward.