Rescue Me
I’d rather not need rescue.
I’d prefer a five-step plan
and a quick-fix solution.
I’d prefer stubborn insistence
over honest vulnerability,
because rescue requires
asking for help.
Rescue names
the rising water.
Rescue sees
the tired, treading feet.
Rescue feels
the swell of the wind
and the rain at a slant.
But when the floor falls out
and the world is on fire
and my small hands
cannot fix the hurt welling in me,
the prayer that slips out
is rescue
rescue
rescue me.
Poem by Rev. Sarah Speed
reprinted with permission from A Sanctified Art
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