Jesus come and find me
On the last day of the year
Ragged, worn, tattered, torn
Older now, and full of fear.
Still the racing of my thoughts
Ease the terrors of my heart
That have hunted, haunted me
To the ending from the start.
Come and count my hairs again
Count the bones beneath my skin
And knit me back together
Where the seams are opening.
Jesus come and find me
And make your dwelling here
In the empty place carved out
By the passage of the year.
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