I’m tired, Mama
The suitcase of my spirit is heavy and worn,
I’ve carried the edges of anger and thorn,
But the storm has subsided, the winds have gone still,
I’ve walked down the valley and over the hill.
I’ve made my peace with the earth and the sky,
With the questions that haunted and left me to cry.
I’ve made my peace with the Maker above,
Trading the battle for a blanket of love.
No more the secrets I hoarded like stones,
No more the ache in the marrow of bones,
No more the rejection, the sting of the door,
I don’t want to fight with the world anymore.
I’m tired, Mama—the road has been long,
I’ve sung all the verses of every wrong song.
I’m done finding faults in the soul that I bear,
I’m done with the heavy, the cold, and the glare.
Forgive me the silence, forgive me the roam,
The wandering heart is finally home.
I’m ready, Mama, to lay down my head,
To leave all the ghosts and the shadows instead.
I’m weary of running, I’m ready to rest,
To be held in the quiet, to be truly blessed.
Open the door, let the porch light shine bright,
I’m coming home, Mama, into the light.