Hearing Him is Everything

My bed is a warm body
with some soft pockets
and slippery sheets.
This morning the sheets smell like lavender,
fresh washed.
It is still so dark.
My pillow hugs me close.
I cuddle in the faux fur
like a cub against her mama.
 
I hear,
Won’t you get up?
From the back of my throat a croaky, Oh no.
Let me linger here in the dark a little longer.
I turn into a fetal quarter moon
and pull the covers right up to my nose.
The folds of my beauty rest possess me.
 
I hear again.
Come be in the Love of Christ.
Come into the Light.
I wait for you.
The sandman weighed my lids with resistance.
But molasses feet hasten to the floor.
There is only one use for my body.
He speaks.
I hear.
And hearing Him is everything.
 
In the bed, I sleep.
In His word I am alive.
I rise. I write. I rise.